Blood
by InkstainedHands1177
Summary: Sherlock grabbed him and pulled him back up against his chest, whispering into his ear. "I will never let you go, Mycroft." His hands moved gently up Mycroft's torso, holding him tight, reveling in touching his brother's skin. "Never ever, ever."
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

When Mycroft was twenty-four, Sherlock made his move. He had always been watching his older brother. Watching, waiting, scheming on how to get Mycroft.

He only partly succeeded.

Mycroft still argued, still claimed that it was filthy, immoral, _wrong_. Sherlock still rolled his eyes.

"Honestly, Mycroft, we're already social misfits, might as well go all the way." He smirked slightly and reclined on Mycroft's bed. "Besides, you _didn't_ fight me."

Mycroft moved sharply to get out of his bed, but Sherlock grabbed him and pulled him back up against his chest, whispering into his ear. "I will _never_ let you go, Mycroft." His hands moved gently up Mycroft's torso holding him tight, reveling in touching his brother's skin. "Never ever, _ever_."

Mycroft shuddered. "Sherlock, this will pass. It's only a phase. An act of rebellion. You know it's wrong, and that's the allure. You can't help but do something that society deems as _wrong_."

Sherlock chuckled slightly and bit Mycroft's ear. "You're only partly right." He exhaled against Mycroft's neck. "There _is_ a certain allure of sinning, but…" He smiled against Mycroft's skin and nibbled on his shoulder. "It's _not_ a phase."

Mycroft tore himself out of Sherlock's grip. "It will never happen again, Sherlock." He turned around and jolted slightly. From the look on Sherlock's face, he half expected Sherlock to lick his lips and have red, glowing eyes too. He drew himself up. "I will never give you another chance to do this. This is done." He moved to his wardrobe and started getting dressed. He only had two hours to get to work.

"Yes, it will happen again." Sherlock stretched, indolent, and gave his brother a lazy smirk. "You know it will."

Mycroft didn't honor the comment with a reply, instead, focused on slipping his belt around his trousers. He could _feel_ Sherlock's frown.

"No. That won't do at all." Sherlock hopped out of bed, heedless of his nudity. "You should start exercising more."

Mycroft didn't even pause as the thought of getting even fatter to force Sherlock away raced through his mind. "What if I like my body the way it is?"

"I want you to."

"I don't cater to your desires, Sherlock."

Sherlock huffed a laugh. "Oh yes, you do."

Mycroft pulled on his suit coat and reached for his brolly. "I expect you gone when I return. You need to return to Uni."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and gave him a glare. "Schooling is boring." A smirk. "I'll go if you give me some _incentive_."

"A good beating with my brolly?"

Snorting, Sherlock tilted his head. "Didn't know you were in sadism." He shrugged. "We can try it too, if you like."

"Oh for Heaven Sake! Sherlock this has gone far enough! The only reason I gave into you last night was because I was _completely_ and _utterly_ drunk!"

Sherlock smirked. "Yes…" He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Wonder how you got that way…"

Mycroft glared at him. "As if you don't know."

"It really was quite tedious of you, Mycroft. I thought you would be a lightweight."

Curiosity got the better of Mycroft. "How much?"

Moving closer to him, Sherlock grinned. "Kiss me and I'll tell."

"Nothing is worth that price."

He pouted. "Am I really that undesirable?"

Mycroft snorted. "You are an uncommonly handsome man, Sherlock, but, you are my brother. Good day." He left the room and then flat.

By the time Mycroft got back, his room was clean of anything that could prove Sherlock had _ever_ been there. He frowned. Sherlock never cleaned up after himself. Never.

 _What is he up to?_ Mycroft frowned and decided to do a sweep of his flat. He found it quickly. A cleverly placed listening device under his desk. He sighed but didn't remove it. Instead, he quietly placed his fingers to his lips and gave a sharp, piercing whistle into it.

He smirked as he thought about Sherlock clutching his ears and cursing in pain.

With that, he crushed it. With a sigh, he slipped into the shower and cleaned himself up, washing away the guilt that still rested just under his skin.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

~seven years later~

Mycroft didn't notice her at first. He was much too furious with Sherlock for ruining his chances with the Senator's daughter.

Completely ignoring the young, female pathologist, who is still gaping at Sherlock lying on her medical table, Mycroft lambasted Sherlock.

"Of all times to relapse onto your drugs, you choose _now_?!"

Sherlock sat up and glared at him. "Of bloody course, I choose now, Mycroft! What did you think? That I'll _allow_ you to forget it all? That I'll _allow_ you to run away from what you _really_ want?" _That I'll allow you leave me?_

Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose with a furious sigh. "Miss Hooper, would you please leave me alone with my brother?"

She nodded, gaping at Sherlock still. Mycroft frowned sharply as he noticed that she had a crush forming on his little brother. _I wonder if he only likes men, or just me? Could he possibly be bisexual? Would it be possible to distract him away from me?_ Mycroft pushed those plans aside for further thought at a later time.

He focused on Sherlock, only to place his hands firmly on his little brother's chest, keeping him at arms length when the younger man lunged at him. "I _told_ you, Sherlock, I will never give you another chance to do it again."

Sherlock sneered. "You can't even say the word."

Knowing that he's playing into Sherlock's hands, slightly, Mycroft growled. "You will never have another chance to have sex with me. I was drunk and practically unconscious, my body responding to natural stimuli without even realizing what that stimuli was coming from. Enough of this, Sherlock. Get your act together!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes and relaxed against Mycroft's hands. His own gripping Mycroft's wrists. "I'll stop. I'll go back to working as a ridiculous clerk at the front desk of your offices, if you give me one, small kiss." His voice was deep, smooth. Mycroft closed his eyes and wondered how his brother became this way.

"Sherlock…I will not do something like that to you. You…" He knew how Sherlock would react to this, but he had to say it. "You need someone to help you, Sherlock. Please, let me make an appointment. We can talk to that person together."

Sherlock pushed himself away furiously. "ARGH!" He turned his back on Mycroft. "I've _tried_ , Myc. I really have. I've _tried_ being normal. I just…" He shrugged. "Can't fit into society as well as you can."

"Sherlock, do you have any recollection of how this feeling of yours started?"

Turning, Sherlock looked at him with tears glistening his eyes. "You mean when I first started wanting you inside me?"

Mycroft coughed. "Yes. Something like that."

"I saw you having sex with Lolita Gemson from your school, two grades above you. I remember puzzling over my rage for days until I realized that I was jealous of the bitch."

Mycroft started. "Sherlock…" His eyes were wide. "You were _ten_?!"

Sherlock sniffled slightly and wrapped his arms around himself. "I started early, Myc." He sniffled again. "I hate this place. It's so cold."

Mycroft sighed and shook his head. "You left your coat in the alley two blocks away." He moved to put it around Sherlock's shoulders, but Sherlock twisted around sharply and grabbed Mycroft's tie, which had been previously unreachable as Mycroft had kept himself at a careful distance.

With barely a glance around, Sherlock fitted his mouth against Mycroft's and gave his brother the _filthiest_ kiss he could. Mycroft grunted and pushed Sherlock away, but only half succeeded. Sherlock, it turned out, was stronger.

Mycroft struggled but only succeeded in slamming them both into the morgue wall. He grunted and hissed out a breath when Sherlock started nibbling his throat.

It did feel good, but that was only stimuli. The overall feeling of pleasure was dampened when Mycroft knew it was his _brother_ giving it to him. "Sherlock! Enough!" He tried to push Sherlock back, tried to pull him off.

There was a shout and then Sherlock stiffened and slumped into Mycroft's stunned arms.

The little pathologist was staring at him wide eyed. "Does he usually get so violent when high?" Her voice was shaky as she disposed of the hypodermic needle. Mycroft gulped some air.

"Y-yes…I thought he would never attack me, his brother…but…it seems I was inaccurate in my assumptions." He pulled his brother up and onto the table again, not wanting him to lay on the floor, no matter what Sherlock tried to do to him.

The woman smiled at him, still shaken, but eager to make an acquaintance. "I'm Dr. Molly Hooper. I actually came in to tell you that the morgue was closing up to visitors in fifteen minutes." She frowned slightly as she looked at Sherlock. "I um…I know it's not my place, but…" She took a breath. "My brother-in-law had some issues with opiates. His wife found a really good place that boasts a success rate of 90%. That's…well, I can give you the name if you'd like."

Mycroft closed his eyes and nodded. "What did you give him?"

"Oh! Well, it was actually a sleep inducing paralysis drug. It's new actually. Not yet on the market. Just recently approved by the MHRA. It's unofficially called the Peace Pill." She shrugged.

He knew of this drug. It was called a wonder drug by many in the medical and science fields. Sherlock himself had been raving about it, calling it brilliant and versatile in its uses. Mycroft looked at her curiously. "Oh? How is it in your hands then?"

Molly Hooper laughed nervously. "I…ah…made it."

He was stunned. Mycroft raised an eyebrow slowly. Molly coughed. "I had the option of going into forensics or pathology…or any medical field actually, but I chose pathology. Not as hectic, and it's quiet." She smiled and then coughed. "Do you…want the name?" She stammered. "Of-of the rehab place?"

"Yes, actually. I would." Mycroft reminded himself to smile at her. "Thank you."

She nodded slowly and then coughed again. "I'll just go to my office for some paper then." She hurried away. Mycroft whipped out his phone and called Anthea.

"I hope you've-" He relaxed slowly. "Good. Thank you, Anthea." He hung up again. _Security feed is wiped. No one got a hold of it. Cab. I need to call a cab. I'll have to take Sherlock home with me tonight. Shit. Maybe I can lock him in his room..._ He groaned and shook his head.

The doors opened again. "How soon until this wears off?"

"Oh…not for another seven hours."

He nodded again. "Any addictions to it?"

"Only psychologically. Habit forming."

Mycroft nodded and then smiled. "I should call a cab now."

Molly smiled hesitantly. "I already have. I didn't know your name, so I put it under mine. I hope you don't mind."

Mycroft was surprised, but only smiled politely. "Not at all. Thank you." He moved to pick up his brother, but Molly made an abortive movement with her hands.

"You don't need to do that!" She hurried to the hall and then came back in with a wheelchair.

He smiled again and nodded his thanks and left the morgue, unsure if he'd see that intriguing woman again.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

~seven years later~

When Sherlock came back from rehab five months after that night in the morgue, Mycroft had been surprised, though, to see Sherlock befriend Molly Hooper. His brother still didn't know that Dr. Hooper was the creator of the Peace Pill. Mycroft, for some strange reason, hoped that Sherlock never found out.

The day John Watson came into Sherlock's life was the day that Mycroft Holmes breathed easier. His brother had abruptly stopped texting him indecent things that Mycroft quickly deleted. He stopped coming over to play chess with him, or other games, all the while flirting and trying, unsuccessfully, to get Mycroft drunk and get rid of Anthea.

Mycroft smiled slightly at his PA. She was a dream come true. She hadn't been overly horrified at the issue of his brother's obsession. She had only asked what she could do to help Mycroft.

She often sat on the sofa in his study, planting herself down, texting. It had irritated Sherlock to no end when she simply smiled at all his deductions and insults.

"Sir, it seems that Sherlock has gotten over his desires."

Mycroft inhaled sharply, reminding himself to breath. "Is it wrong to miss his company?"

"No." She gave him a sharp glance. "As long as it has to do with platonic companionship of brothers."

"It has."

"Then it's completely understandable to miss the only other person who could challenge you mentally."

"I wish he was…" He couldn't finish that sentence.

Anthea only nodded, bless her. She didn't need to know the ending of the wish either. Both of them wished it. Mycroft exhaled noisily.

"Enough. We have work to do. Give me those treaties concerning the PM and Kremlin."

"Yes, sir."

~four weeks later~

Mycroft frowned as he contemplated his brandy. Sherlock was safely tucked away in his bed. For his own safety and peace of mind, Mycroft had Sherlock under twenty-four/seven watch.

He was so engrossed in his work that he didn't notice his study window open. Nor did he sense the danger until it was nearly too late.

Anthea ripped open the door and yanked Mycroft out of the chair. A blow dart embedded itself into his desk top. Mycroft cursed and turned quickly around, pulling Anthea up.

Sherlock was scowling as he hopped over the windowsill. "Spoilsport."

"Sherlock?!" Mycroft's brain rapidly worked it out. "Loop. Anthea, call security and have them reboot the security systems in Sherlock's flat."

"Yes, sir." She looked at Mycroft hesitantly. "Come with me, sir?"

Mycroft looked at Sherlock and nodded. "We all will come with you."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "It was a simple drug. I think you know about the Peace Pill?" He smirked. "Wanted to give you a taste of your own medicine, having Anthea sneak up behind me to knock me out with it." He huffed again. His pout was unseemly in this context.

Mycroft scowled. "Sherlock, I have _refused_ you. What _more_ can I do?! This obsession of yours has gone on long enough! I'm making an appointment with Dr. Clawthorn right now." He pulled out his phone, but Sherlock grabbed his wrist.

"And what will they do? Put me on drugs? Societal norms and its views on morality are _boring_ , Mycroft." He smiled slowly. "Why keep resisting? I know you like the thrill of it. The allure of the sin." Sherlock's smirk widened when he saw Mycroft's pupils widen. "I _knew_ it."

Mycroft wrenched himself out of Sherlock's grasp and hurried over to where Anthea was standing, who was unsure of what to do. Mycroft nodded to her and then turned to Sherlock. "I thought John-"

"Oh! He's a good _friend_ , but he's not what I want." Sherlock gave him a lecherous grin.

Despair crept into Mycroft's heart. He felt suddenly exhausted. "Sherlock…I _cannot_ give into what you want. It. Is. Wrong."

"What's the definition of wrong?" It sounded so innocent.

"It is an unjust, undesirable, and immoral action."

"Hm…unjust…there is no justice in giving me blue balls." Sherlock smiled at Mycroft slightly. "I find the act of sex with you to be greatly _desirable_. And Morality is such a vague and malleable term at best." He chuckled.

Mycroft gave an explosive sigh. "FOR HEAVEN SAKE! SHERLOCK, I WILL NOT HAVE SEX WITH YOU! EVER!"

Sherlock was still. He turned slowly and tilted his head, staring at Mycroft intently. He stepped closer. Mycroft couldn't help it. He shifted his weight uneasily.

A slow smile spread across Sherlock's face. "You know you'll give in eventually, Mycroft." He eased closer. "You will _always_ give in to what I want." Slowly, he picked up his brother's right hand and kissed the tips of each finger. He sucked slightly on the thumb and popped it out of his mouth and gazed at his brother's face.

Mycroft was stunned. Sherlock smiled and nudged his brother's crotch with his thigh. "When your resolve crumbles, when you finally give in, I'll catch you and drag you down to _depravity_ with me." He chuckled and gave his brother a falsely platonic kiss. "Immorality is _so_ fun, Mycroft. I think you'd enjoy being wicked with me. Think of the _thrill_ of hiding _such_ a secret, tricking everyone, outsmarting the world!"

Sherlock withdrew, staring at Mycroft intently, hotly. He tilted his head and gave Anthea a cold nod, and left the study through the window.

Mycroft slowly, quietly, exhaled, suddenly and shamefully aware of his erection. He hurried past Anthea and rushed into his bedroom, quickly shedding his clothes and jumping into the shower. He then proceeded to scrub his skin until it was red and even bleeding in some areas.

Something _had_ to be done.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Mycroft sighed and looked at the chat box. "I will probably hate myself for this."

Anthea gave him a worried frown. "Sir, do you think…"

"Sherlock _needs_ to be distracted. Moriarty has already noticed him. Why not make him notice Sherlock a little more?" That decided, he sat down and started typing a response to M's question.

 _M_ I hear you have a request?_

 _Unknown_ Yes. I want to employ you._

 _M_ What did you have in mind? Please note that I am not some common thug._

 _Unknown_ Thinking of you as a common thug is the furthest from my mind. I actually wanted to place a little bet with you._

 _M_ Oh? Intriguing._

Mycroft snorted. "I thought so."

 _Unknown_ I bet that you cannot outwit Sherlock Holmes. I bet that you cannot defeat him._

Anthea and Mycroft waited for Moriarty to respond. It was three minutes before the man did.

 _M_ How much are you willing to bet?_

 _Unknown_ Ten million quid._

 _M_ I'll take it. Any parameters concerning this bet?_

 _Unknown_ It does not go beyond a national setting and no casualties greater than two hundred should be involved. You have three years._

 _M_ Interesting…and Sherlock Holmes. Is he free to die?_

 _Unknown_ I'll leave that to your own choice. If you can do it._

 _M_ I_ _like_ _you! You'll be contacted by someone named Jade Ling in two days at the southern entrance of Kensington Garden. Give her the information of payment for the bet._

 _Unknown_ Very well._

Mycroft signed off and then nodded to Anthea. She severed it's connection to the temporary server that was actually based in South London.

Mycroft sighed and raked his hands through his hair. "Anthea…please tell me I've done the right thing?"

"By focusing Moriarty's attention on Sherlock and forcing Sherlock's attentions off you? Yes. Two hundred casualty limit…? No."

Mycroft sighed. "To make it more believable, Anthea. I cannot allow Moriarty to know who I am."

She nodded slowly and then sighed. "What will happen now?"

"Now? Now we wait." Mycroft stood up. "And watch. And interfere when only needed. Sherlock will be too distracted to even look in my direction."

She nodded and then, slowly, they started getting back to work.

~one month later~

Mycroft sighed and leaned his head back as he sat in the chair. Anthea shook her head slowly. "Nothing?"

"Since that night, Sherlock has never once texted me, sent me a note, called me, or contacted me in any way, shape, or form."

She nodded and sighed. "Last time we assumed…"

"I know." Mycroft sighed and rubbed his face. "I'll be fine, Anthea. This is Whitehall. You can go home."

"Sir, when you go home, please let someone-"

"I cannot have some random thug know about Sherlock's…issues." Anthea frowned.

"Then please stay in a hotel."

"Sherlock is a brilliant actor, Anthea. If he wanted to get inside a hotel room, then nothing could stop him. Stop this. I will not alter my routine for my baby brother."

She looked hesitant and then she relented. "Yes, sir." She nodded slowly and left the office. Mycroft sighed and then shook his head, still bending over his papers. He checked the calendar. March 20th.

He shook his head. "Working on a Saturday."

He drank some of his water and continued working through the night. It wasn't until he came back from using the restroom that he started feeling woozy.

"What?" He shook his head slightly, trying to shake the feeling. He drank some more water, thinking he was dehydrated or something.

It just got worse after that. Mycroft stared in horror at his water glass and dropped it onto his desk with a sharp inhale.

"Damn you, Sherrr…." He slumped forward, caught only by his brother.

"Yes, Mycroft. I am damned." Sherlock smiled and kissed his brother's neck. "But I'm taking you down with me." He pulled Mycroft down the hall, making it look like the older man was leaning on him for support.

A few people looked at them, concerned, Sherlock just waved them away. "Just exhausted. Everything's fine. Have a good night!" They didn't try and stop him.

Sherlock chuckled as he got into Mycroft's car. "Take us to Mycroft's home, Jack."

"Yes, sir." The chauffer nodded and started driving. Sherlock made sure the man couldn't see him combing his fingers through his brother's hair.

Sherlock whispered quietly into Mycroft's ear, "You keep telling yourself that you don't love me in this way, but I know you're wrong, Mycroft. I know it, and I'll prove it to you. Slowly, surely, and methodically. I'll show you the beauty of _sin_ and _pleasure._ "

 **Sorry for this update being so late! I hope you all enjoy this though!** : )

 **Ink...**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Mycroft woke up to the sound of the shower running. He moved and then hissed in pain.

His brain instantly started deducing, coming to one, final, horrifying conclusion. "Damn." Mycroft closed his eyes and contemplated crying. It wouldn't do anything, except help him vent his despair.

A single tear escaped.

"Crying? How unlike you, Mycroft."

"Rape is unlike you too, or so I thought." His fists clenched the bed sheets.

Sherlock frowned. He looked honestly confused. "Rape? I was merely utilizing your need for sleep. I thought I was being kind to you. You felt nothing. You know nothing specific. I even cleaned you up and changed the sheets. I exercised thoughtfulness." He cocked his head. "How can you still be displeased?" His eyes twinkled. "If it's the pain, then I can help you with that."

Mycroft closed his eyes and tried to quell it. "No." He rushed, naked, out of bed and made it to the toilet just in time. He threw up until his stomach held nothing, and still he threw up air.

Sherlock stroked his hair and wiped his mouth and face with soft, damp cloths. "I know it's a lot to take in, Mycroft. I know. But you need to stop feeling guilty over my decisions. You need to stop feeling guilty over perceived immorality." His fingers curled through Mycroft's hair.

Mycroft groaned and shook his head. "Sherlock…you simply _do not_ understand."

"I understand that you're hung up on what you perceive as morality. Mycroft, not even two centuries ago, cousins were marrying and producing children, and it was considered _normal,_ yes, even _encouraged_!" Sherlock snorted. "Society changes the rules and expects humans to follow like so many sheep. We are not sheep, Mycroft. You and I function at a whole other level than the average." His fingers slipped through Mycroft's hair, soothingly. "I know it's hard to accept, but social constructs are only chains that keep us from attaining our true potential, Mycroft." Sherlock's voice was quiet, soothing, he eased his own towel clad body up against Mycroft's naked one.

"We aren't producing faulty children, we aren't harming anyone, we aren't hindering the progress of civilization…" He lowered his voice to only a whisper. "Mycroft, I love you in the purest, highest, and truest form I can. Brotherly love…who's to say that it has to stop at the platonic level? Who's to say that we cannot deepen our bond and love each other with our hearts _and_ body?"

Mycroft was beginning to shake. He didn't feel like himself at all. He knew he was going into shock. Mental shock. He knew what he should do. He knew that he should clock Sherlock on the jaw and run from his own home. Run and not look back, run and keep on running, back to sanity, back to world as he knew it.

He shook his head. "No. No, Sherlock. No. No. No."

"Your responses aren't very logical. Simply saying 'no' doesn't keep the truth at bay." Sherlock chuckled and caressed Mycroft's neck and nape. "Don't keep hiding, Mycroft. Hiding is cowardly. Face reality. Society is starting to accept polyamorous groups. Society is beginning to accept LGBTs. Who's to say that _incest_ is wrong? We're not hurting anyone by it."

Mycroft shook his head again. "Inaccurate. Mummy would be torn apart. So would Father. They raised us according to their standards of Morality."

Sherlock scoffed. "Oh yes, and if we followed them like little clones, then we would also be listening to two-bit musicals and calling it stupendous."

Mycroft flinched. He tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling. Two more tears slipped down his cheeks. His brain wasn't working. He couldn't make sense of Sherlock's words. His brother's fingers, constant touching, constant soothing pressure, was making it difficult to _think_. The shock was creeping further into his brain, making everything fuzzy.

"No. Stop. Sherlock, stop!"

Sherlock smirked and kissed down Mycroft's neck. "Why should I stop something that you secretly enjoy?" His other hand slipped down and started rubbing Mycroft's cock. The older brother gasped and flinched and tried to pull away, but pulling away meant shoving his back against Sherlock's naked chest. He hissed slightly and tried to push, but the drug still seemed to be in his system. The shock was still too great. The room began to spin. Sherlock smiled and whispered in his ear.

"How can something that feels so _good_ be bad?"

Mycroft's eyes started closing. His breathing slowed. His cock began to stiffen. Sherlock's smile widened. "Come to bed, Mycroft. Let me show you how wonderful it is, sleeping with someone who can actually give you a _challenge_." Sherlock helped his older brother up and slowly guided him towards the bed.

Mycroft shook his head sharply. The drug was weak, nearly nonexistent. _I can fight it! I can fight Sherlock!_ He looked at the bed. _It's already happened twice. The damage is already done…why not give in? Maybe Sherlock will grow tired of it and leave well enough alone? Maybe all I have to do is fuck him willingly once, and he'll leave me alone…_

Mycroft opened his mouth but everything was shattered by the piercing ringing of Mycroft's phone.

Sherlock cursed and tried to stop Mycroft from answering, but it was too late. Mycroft closed his eyes and focused on the woman at the other end. "Yes?" His voice was normal. His posture was normal. He was talking to a woman, another human, who was normal. Mycroft could feel his brain get back on track, like a computer starting up again after a crash. He turned his back to Sherlock.

 _"Hi! This is Dr. Molly Hooper. You said that I should call you whenever something came up. Well, I have two men in my morgue, but something's not right with them. They…well, they have gun calluses, but their papers claim that one is a pharmacist and the other is a food deliverer. Neither of them have licenses for holding guns. I just thought it was odd. Maybe something you could straighten out?"_

Mycroft frowned. "Describe the first man to me."

 _"The pharmacist is six foot, two inches, blue eyes, blond hair. His back, arms, chest and torso are spotted with scars of all kinds, burns, knife wounds, gun wounds, and even laceration wounds. No notable marks, besides the scars, except for a curious burn on his left arm, just above his elbow. It's like the shape of a bird."_

Mycroft's eyes shot wide open. "Bugger. I'll be down immediately. I know who these men are. Hold them, and do not let anyone see them or their paperwork." He hung up and quickly started getting dressed.

While he was dressing he spoke, "I told you that I would never give in to you, Sherlock." He leveled Sherlock with a glare, as he straightened his tie. "You had best leave well enough alone. I am through with enabling you." He turned his back to his brother. "Get your life together, research how to overcome this unhealthy obsession you seem to have with me. Get yourself sorted."

"Or what?" Sherlock's tone was aggressive. His eyes were full of anger.

Mycroft looked at him, complete the Ice Man. "I will have you put into a psychiatric therapy center, with or without your consent." He turned, but Sherlock grabbed his arm.

"You like it! I know you want it! You were aroused! You can't get _that_ _hard_ doing something you loath."

Mycroft pulled his arm out of Sherlock's grip. "Yes, I am curious about how it would be. Yes, I find there is a certain allure in doing something wicked." He turned and stared at Sherlock. "However, I have thought it through. The negatives of such a choice greatly outweigh the positives, Sherlock. You are offering me the apple of the Garden of Eden. I am simply refusing to partake in the temptation." He turned and left his brother behind in his house.

Mycroft smiled, his spirit lifting considerably when he left the house. He felt _victory_ During the ride back into London, he filed everything, all his emotions, all his thoughts, all his feelings of betrayal, confusion, shame, anger, rage, bitterness, guilt, and self-disgust away. He looked them all over and then slotted them in their correct places. When he opened his eyes, Jack was pulling the car up to the curb of St. Bart's hospital.

"Jack, from now on, if you see me incapacitated and in the presence of my brother, please do not let him continue to be alone with me. My baby brother insists on the most mortifying pranks." He kept all emotion out of his voice and off his face.

Jack covered a smirk and nodded. "Yes, sir. Of course, sir."

Mycroft nodded and got out of the car.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

He nodded to Dr. Hooper. "It's certainly been awhile." She smiled nervously and then jerkily showed him the bodies.

Mycroft felt the urge to ask someone who was…normal. "What do you think of incest, Dr. Hooper. From a medical standpoint." He kept all emotion from his face.

She blinked in surprise at the sudden topic and then frowned darkly. "Medically, it's not advisable, considering that the human body was formed to survive under a constricted gene pool. Psychologically, it's a dangerous life choice. Of course, I'm under the assumption that it would be between two consenting adults." Her eyes were guarded.

Mycroft coughed and smiled thinly. "Yes."

She looked at him curiously and then nodded slowly. "Well, then I'd say that it's a choice quite similar to drinking to excess, or doing drugs, or eating to excess. You never think it's wrong because it only involves you, but that's not true." She turned back to the bodies. "Our entire life is filled with the butterfly effect. We don't know how a simple action could resound in the future. One choice may make all the difference, or it may amount to nothing. We don't know. Because of this, we should weigh our choices carefully, no matter if it's taking an umbrella to work, or getting another job. It all amounts to something important."

Mycroft stared at her and then nodded. "You're right. You're…very right. Thank you." He turned back to the bodies. "Yes, I can identify them. Allow me to make a phone call."

Molly nodded and then blinked. "Oh! Of course! I'll just be outside in my office." He nodded back and turned away slightly to talk to Anthea.

~four days later~

Mycroft frowned slightly. His brother was bored again. He sighed. The banking incident had helped Mycroft recover and recollect himself. Sherlock hardly had time to even scheme, let alone send him texts.

He tapped the floor slightly with his umbrella. "I'm here to see Dr. Hooper."

The man at the desk frowned and then nodded. "Of course. I'll call her."

Five minutes later, Molly hurried through the halls quickly. "Yes, Mr. Holmes?"

He smiled slightly at her. "I need to speak with you about the autopsies you performed on the gunmen."

Molly drew herself up slightly and looked at him. "Were there any faults?" Her eyes were sharp, as if daring him to criticize her work.

Mycroft was quick to placate her. "No. Actually, that is what I wished to speak with you about. If we may…your lunch shift is in five minutes, correct?"

"Yes." She was looking at him warily. Mycroft smiled reassuringly.

"Have lunch with me? We can discuss this topic in private."

Glancing around, Molly nodded. "Okay, just a moment. I need to grab my things from my locker." Mycroft nodded and waited. While he waited, he got an surprise.

"For Pete's sake, Sherlock! Wait up!" Mycroft stiffened and turned to stare at his brother, who was staring at him too. Both men were in shock.

Molly hurried up. "Okay, I'm ready. Where are we going to eat?" She smiled up at Mycroft. Mycroft felt himself smiling back. He realized that Molly Hooper was one of those people who you couldn't help returning a smile to.

"I was thinking the Silver Hart. It's a quaint place. One of my favorite haunts." _Blast it! Why did I say that in front of Sherlock?! How could I be such a bloody idiot?!_ Mycroft's pleasant smile stayed in place. He could feel Sherlock's intense stare.

Molly's eyes gleamed. "I love that place! It's got such a unique atmosphere!" She laughed and then made sure that she had all her folders and purse.

Sherlock stepped in their way. "Molly, I need you in the lab." His tone showed that he would not take 'no'. Molly blinked at him and then looked at Mycroft uncertainly before turning back to Sherlock.

She found it hard to keep eye-contact. "Ah…Sherlock, I can't right now. I have to go to lunch with Mycroft. He needs to talk to me about something." She looked at Mycroft for backup. Mycroft stepped closer to Molly, providing her mental support under Sherlock's stare.

"I need Dr. Hooper's medical prowess on something." _Relax, I will not be stealing your pathologist._ He looked down at his little brother with equal intensity.

Sherlock stared at him and then huffed. "Fine. Come quickly back, Molly. I need you." He stared at her intently and then stormed down the hall. Curious about the tense atmosphere, John nodded to them and hurried after his friend.

Mycroft sighed. "Apologies."

"Don't. I've known Sherlock for nearly fourteen years." She laughed quietly and shook her head. "It doesn't feel that long at all."

Mycroft snorted slightly. "To some it feels like centuries."

Trying to stay happy in light of her companion's sudden gloom, Molly laughed lightly. "If all the memories were good, then it wouldn't be all that bad to have it last longer."

Mycroft stared at her quietly as Jack started the car and merged into the traffic. "Yes…I suppose you're right." He settled into his seat and listened to Molly's breathing.

They arrived at the café in quick time. Molly smiled at the decorations. With a twinkle in her eyes, she accepted Mycroft's pushing in her chair. "I'm sure your mother must be proud of you. You haven't let chivalry die."

Mycroft snorted. "Unlike Sherlock."

"Yes…what did happen to him?" Molly's face was lit up with laughter, so Mycroft knew that she meant it as a joke, but he felt the urge to answer honestly.

"I don't know. I often wonder that myself." He sighed.

Molly frowned and then leaned forward. "You worry about him all the time, don't you?" Mycroft frowned sharply. He didn't like being deduced by someone who was average. Molly waved his concern away without him needing to say a word.

"Don't be like that. I can see it in your eyes. Besides, I know how it feels. I had a younger sibling too. Jeremy use to…well…" Molly shrugged. "I won't go into it all. Suffice it to say that he was incredibly confused. He tried to commit suicide five times, constantly depressed, constantly needy for someone to affirm that they loved him." Molly sipped some of her water. She forced a laugh. Her eyes teared up. "He wanted to die… The sixth time…he got his wish."

Mycroft was startled at the confession. Molly stared at him. "You may think that you're above average, but you have a brother who gets bored, who likes getting high, who craves distractions, who worries you constantly." She set her glass down carefully. "He's are not the only human who meets those criteria." She looked at Mycroft. "Thousands of people do, and they somehow get through the shit Life is throwing at them. You can too."

Mycroft leaned back in surprise. "Of all the things I expected when I asked you here, this was not one of them. However," He smiled and lifted his water glass in a salute to her. "It is not unwelcome. Your advice and wisdom do lift my spirits greatly, Dr. Hooper."

Molly wrinkled her nose. "Call me Molly? We've known each other long enough."

"Only if you call me Mycroft." _Am I flirting?!_ He kept his panic internal.

"Alright…Mycroft." _Is he flirting?!_ She forced her pulse to slow down.

He smiled and let go of her hand and brought up her folder. "Shall we get started, Molly?" He had an interesting proposition for her, should she accept it.

"Yes." Molly smiled back at him.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

After that, Molly started doing autopsies for Mycroft's people too, forcing her to get more security in her home to prevent break-in's. Also, her lab and office had to be upgraded. Sherlock viewed all of this with suspicion and eagerness. He never bothered Mycroft about Molly though, believing his brother was just having a passing fancy over a goldfish. How wrong he was.

The business lunches quickly turned into tea. Tea turned into afternoon strolls. Strolls turned into meeting in the morning during the rare days off and jogging and working out together. Working out together led them to dieting together. Dieting together led them to meeting at Molly's flat and cooking together. Cooking together led to dinners…

Mycroft looked forward to seeing Molly at least once a week. On the rare times, he would be able to see her twice a week. He would always smile when he would get a text from her about a new healthy, but delicious, recipe or another trail opening at their favorite park. She was still trying to get him to jog through Highgate with her.

Sherlock…Sherlock was doing a great job at intimidating Molly Hooper, manipulating her and ignoring Mycroft. He tried to keep Molly so busy and so tired that she couldn't meet with Mycroft. However, Mycroft would simply invite the pathologist over to his place to read and listen to vinyl records or even take a nap.

Mycroft didn't delude himself in thinking that Sherlock was done with him. No, Mycroft knew his little brother was only just beginning. However…time spent with Molly Hooper was like a balm for a burn, for an itch that could never be sated.

Molly helped him get through what Sherlock had done to him, and he had helped Molly get over the hurt that Moriarty had done to her. If Mycroft felt some guilt for her pain, then he wasn't going to admit it.

~September 1st, 2010~

"Well…congratulations, Mycroft."

Mycroft sighed and looked up from his work on his desk. "What do you want, Sherlock?"

His brother shrugged. "To congratulate you, Myc." He grinned and looked his brother up and down, all but licking his lips. "You're birthday is in four days, and you've lost twenty-five pounds since I last saw you."

"You saw me five months ago, Sherlock. I would imagine that many can change in that bit of time." Internally, Mycroft was both preening and panicking. Sherlock liked him thin. He was becoming thinner. Sherlock got turned on by muscle. Mycroft was becoming stronger…

"Including Molly Hooper. What are your designs on her, Mycroft?" A raised eyebrow.

Mycroft barked a laugh. "Like you have any say in what she does or does not do. She isn't your thrall, Sherlock. She isn't obligated to do anything you want. You can't tell her no, but you don't care, because you'd steamroll her anyway."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "You're already getting protective of her." There was a hard edge to his voice. He stepped further into the room. Mycroft tensed. His hand hovering over the panic button Anthea had installed. Sighing plaintively, Sherlock raised his hands. "And yet, no matter how close you get…you will never tell her what you've done with me." He had a sly smile.

Mycroft jolted upwards to a standing position, glaring at Sherlock. "What you've done _to_ me, Sherlock Holmes! _I_ have done nothing with you!"

"That's not true. I was suppose to be asleep, but you crept into my room after our row and kissed my cheek."

"It was a brotherly kiss of apology when you were _seven_!"

"An apology that you gave me when I was supposedly asleep?" Sherlock barked a laugh. He stepped closer, daring Mycroft to run. "All I want is a simple hug from my simple brother."

Mycroft gave him a sharp glance. "Don't be smart, Sherlock."

He didn't reply, just held out his arms. Mycroft's instincts were screaming at him to run away. _It's just a hug. And I have been working out more, for this specific reason…_ Mycroft stepped closer, wondering if he really was becoming simple where his brother was concerned. He certainly didn't like that smile on his brother's face.

Sherlock slipped his arms around Mycroft's trimming waist and gave a small hum of approval. "Oh yes…at least Molly isn't fattening you up for the slaughter. I suppose this is why she has also lost twenty-one pounds."

Mycroft's breathing hitched slightly when he felt Sherlock's hands slip upward, nails ever so lightly, scraping up his back. His eyes flickered closed and then open. Sherlock grinned and then leaned forward and kissed his brother's jaw. "Happy Birthday, Mycroft."

Before Sherlock pulled away, he slipped his hand down and squeezed Mycroft's tush. "It's much firmer now…" He chuckled and pulled away. Mycroft's neck was pinkish. Sherlock laughed and shook his head. "I'll see you later, Mycroft. Enjoy your date with Molly."

Mycroft opened his mouth to object about it being a date when he stopped. He knew Sherlock was waiting to be corrected, but nothing came. "Thank you." He tried to reassert himself, but couldn't quite make it all the way with Sherlock still staring at him like he was a cut of prime beef.

"Catch you later, Mycroft."

 _No, you won't._ "Goodbye, Sherlock." The front door clicked shut. Mycroft checked the security. Sherlock was walking down the path away from the house. He let out a breath and then put his papers away. He needed a shower. A cold one.

~two weeks later~

Sherlock Holmes smirked at Mycroft as he lounged under his sheet. John, ever oblivious John, had no clue what his friend was doing to Mycroft.

Belittling him, arousing him, mocking him, and challenging him to see him naked, to give in, to give up…

Mycroft focused on Harry, making Sherlock out to be a troubled child, when he was anything but a child. Troubled, yes, but not a child.

And when Sherlock tried to get a rise out of Mycroft... "I like mystery at one of my cases, two ends is too much. Good day!"

Mycroft closed his eyes and acted without much thought behind it.

"Get off my sheet!" _Don't be stupid brother, I don't want the entire palace to see what you alone are allowed to see._

"Or what?" _I am your brother, not your lover._

"Or I'll walk away." _You wouldn't like it. You wouldn't like people seeing me. Jealousy and all that._

"I'll let you." _You're insane. I do not care for you in that way!_

"Boys! Not here."

Mycroft snapped out of it and moved away swiftly. "Sherlock Holmes, PUT YOUR TROUSERS ON!"

It didn't get much better from there. Mycroft had to needle Sherlock. He had to. He knew that Sherlock would get revenge. Knew it, but he still did it anyway.

"How would you know?" _You never had sex with me awake. You know only half of it._

A muscle spasmed in Sherlock's jaw. "Pay her. Now and in full. As Ms. Adler says in her masthead, 'Know when you've been beaten'."

Mycroft sighed as Harry explained. That's when he knew Sherlock would get interested. A power play. Irene Adler would take Sherlock's mind off of Mycroft for a moment. Perhaps she would fuck him, and suddenly make him heterosexual? _One can only hope. I sometimes wish I was born female…_ Mycroft suddenly wondered if Sherlock would have fallen in love with him then too.

Sherlock left quickly, after showing off in front of his brother. Once again, Mycroft wondered how a man, who was in love with his blood brother, could perform as a completely normal (as normal as Sherlock can get), human being, laughing with John over something, all the while scheming on how to get his brother to have sex with him.

Mycroft was boggled at Sherlock's complexity. He knew Sherlock's friendship with Dr. Watson was not an act. His brother truly cares about what John thought and felt.

 **Merry Christmas!**

 **Ink...**


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

A thought caused Mycroft pulled up short. Anthea frowned. "Sir?"

"He cares about Dr. Watson…" Mycroft smiled, a slow smile that never quite reached his eyes. "Please arrange a little meeting with Dr. Watson, Anthea, the Diogenes this time. I have no need for drafty warehouses."

She smiled and nodded. "When sir?"

"Tomorrow."

"Of course, sir."

Mycroft continued on his way. He wasn't going to get fatter to keep Sherlock away. No. He was going to employ Dr. Watson to keep Sherlock away. _I cannot tell him the truth. He simply wouldn't understand. Sherlock would be destroyed if Watson left. No, however, I can simply invite him over for a drink and have innocent conversation that will go back to Sherlock._ Mycroft smiled. He finished his day quickly and picked up Molly Hooper from her flat and drove them both to the theatre.

Molly smiled at him as they entered the building. "I can't wait. I've always wanted to hear the London Philharmonic live."

He smiled down at her. "I hope you enjoy it." He gave the man at the booth their tickets and then proceeded to wait in the line with Molly. The prettiest woman in the building.

She flushed when he told her so. "Mycroft!" Laughing, she smiled at him. "I'm not the prettiest."

Mycroft chuckled and stepped closer to her. "I have noticed that women truly believe the most outlandish lies concerning themselves." He bent down and gave her a quick kiss on her corner of her mouth.

Molly was a pretty pink. Mycroft chuckled. He only ever smiled around his mummy, and Molly. His. Molly.

Mycroft held the door open for their private box. "No rubbing elbows with the commoners for you, my lady."

Molly tilted her head back and laughed. Mycroft zeroed in on the smooth stretch of skin. He wanted to kiss it. Kiss it and hear her moan.

Swallowing sharply, Mycroft helped her with her seat and sat down close to her. "I hope you didn't tell my dear brother what you were doing tonight?"

"Hmm?" Her eyes moved to his. "Oh. No, I didn't. You asked me not to." She frowned slightly. "Do you really think he would crash our date?"

"Undoubtedly." His heart leapt when he heard the word 'date'. Oh yes…he wanted Molly Hooper. Wanted her and wanted to let the whole world know she was his. "Sherlock never was fond of sharing. He considers you a part of his personal property. To have and to abuse whenever he wants." Mycroft hadn't meant to sound so bitter.

Molly sighed. "Mycroft, Sherlock is just…well, he simply doesn't understand what's right or wrong as well as another person does. He can't make moral judgments as easily as another."

She moved closer to him and slipped her arm around his. "Let's stop talking about him. It's time we enjoyed ourselves. Sherlock is not here, and that's all that matters for tonight."

Mycroft smiled and kissed her hand. "Thank you, Molly." She smiled brightly at him.

It was in the during the intermission, right in front of the small restaurant in the foyer, that Mycroft pulled Molly close to him and held both her hands. "I am aware that we have been seeing more of each other for five months now." He took a breath. "You have been good to me and for me, patient, kind, forgiving, loving, caring…" He stared at her intently. "You have never asked questions, never abused our relationship, never asked for anything except my honesty and sincerity.

"Molly Hooper, I have known you only for five months, but I know now that I truly, and deeply, _love_ you." His eyes were on her. "Please, Molly, please allow me to date you, get to know you with marriage in mind for the future?"

Molly gasped and pressed her hand on her cheek. "Oh…" Her eyes shone. "Yes! Oh yes, Mycroft, yes!" She threw herself into his arms, laughing and kissing him. "Thank you, Mycroft. Thank you so much. Thank you."

His hands slipped around her waist and held her close to him. They broke apart when an old man chuckled and waved a finger at them. Molly flushed and hid her face in Mycroft's jacket. Mycroft merely smiled at the man and helped Molly to her feet.

"We have nine minutes and twenty-eight seconds left of the intermission. Would you like something to drink?"

"Yes, please." She stared at him with wide, adoring eyes. "Yes."

Mycroft looked at her, really looked at her. "Molly…I thought…"

"That I had a crush on your brother?"

"Yes." Sherlock always had everything.

She smiled sadly. "I did. I still find him disturbingly handsome, but I don't love him. I think him nice to look at, but I can barely string two words together around him. He's…intimidating." She looked up at Mycroft. "I can tell that you _could_ be, but you aren't." They continued to walk arm in arm, much closer than was probably proper in their current surroundings. "Not to me at least, and I love you for that." She smiled at him. "Mycroft, I can very easily see myself marrying you and growing old with you." Her eyes shown with happiness.

Something fluttered in his belly. "Molly…you must forgive me, emotions are…new to me."

Molly laughed and rested her head on his shoulder. "I can teach you about emotions, and you'll have to teach me how to act in proper society so you won't be ashamed of me."

Mycroft snorted. "I could never be ashamed of you, Molly Hooper, but yes, you're right. I want to those in my world that I am now _blessedly_ taken." He winked at her.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Molly chuckled and then stared at him. A small frown marred her features as she looked at him. "There it is again…"

Mycroft blinked and looked at her, a half smile on his lips. "There is what again?"

"That glint of panic. I sometimes see it in your eyes whenever Sherlock's nearby. You become distant, distracted… Is something wrong, Mycroft? Has Sherlock done something to you?" She caught herself. "Oh! You don't have to tell me. I know you like your secrets. You aren't used to opening up to anyone yet, and we only just now began officially dating. You don't have to tell me." She fiddled with the skirt of her white dress.

Mycroft sighed and took her hands. "Molly, all you have to do is ask. I will tell you if you can know or if you can't. I made a vow to you that I would always be honest. I will. I cannot go into the particulars, that is Sherlock's privacy, but yes. He has hurt me." Mycroft closed his eyes. "Deeply and intensely. It was when I met you for the second time. Those two agents that you caught in your morgue. That day. He…damaged something between us. Irreparably. And yet," Mycroft scoffed quietly, "He doesn't think he's done anything wrong. And…I don't know what to do…"

Molly bit her lip and slipped her hand along his cheek. Mycroft closed his eyes and leaned against it, sighing slightly. He didn't have to pretend with Molly. She saw him in every form, Big Brother, Ice Man, Minor Officer, and Mycroft, as himself.

"I don't know the details. I don't need to know. However, I do know how much it hurts to be betrayed by family. It's not suppose to happen. Family is suppose to be the strongest ties you have until marriage. That's the ideal." Molly scoffed quietly. "It never works out to be the reality."

Mycroft held her close to him. They stayed that way until the same elderly gentleman started laughing quietly. Mycroft laughed awkwardly, nodding his apology.

"Oh, don't apologize. I find it nice to see such interactions in today's youth. At least you aren't professing love over text instead of telling it to each other, especially when you are standing right next to each other." The man chuckled and nodded to them as he walked past.

Molly hurried to the bathroom to clean up. Mycroft's mobile vibrated. He hoped it wasn't work. Fishing it out, he looked at it.

 _Caring is not an advantage, Myc. ~SH_

Mycroft snapped straight and stared into the crowd. He spied his brother instantly, lounging at the bar, smirking at him. His first instinct was to confront, but then he also wanted to finish this night with Molly in a pleasant restaurant and, just possibly, her bedroom.

Sherlock waved cheekily at him from across the crowded room.

Mycroft glared at him and kept on glaring until Molly slipped her arm around his waist. "Mycroft? What's the matter?"

"Sherlock is over there." Her eyes followed his and then a gasp.

"Damn it." She straightened up imperiously and held his hand. "The bell is about to sound. We need to return to our booth. The door can be locked, right?"

Mycroft blinked and then smiled at Molly. "Clever." She smirked.

"I've been spending a lot of time with you." He chuckled and nodded and ushered her into their private box. He knew Sherlock was moving swiftly closer to them. Closing the door, he locked it with the key in his pocket.

There was an insistent knocking. Mycroft laugh quietly and shook his head. "Sherlock, dear brother, if you make a fuss, you will be escorted off the premises. You have a case to do. Why don't you go do it?"

"Damn you, Mycroft." Sherlock sounded like he was pouting.

Mycroft smiled and winked at Molly. Sherlock left soon after the music began again. Molly smiled up at Mycroft when she felt his arm slip around her shoulders.

When they got to the car, Molly was humming softly to herself one of the symphonies that had been played.

Mycroft took her hands. "Molly…please…can I go to your flat tonight? Nothing needs to happen, I…"

Molly looked at Mycroft closely and then smiled sadly. "Sherlock will be at your home. Of course you can stay the night if you like."

Kissing her lightly on her cheek, Mycroft looked at her intensely. "May I?"

Molly tilted her head up and puckered her lips. Mycroft chuckled and leaned forward and kissed her.

One thing led to another, and Mycroft found himself snogging Molly silly. When they did break apart, she gaped at him. "I didn't know you had it in you!"

Mycroft chuckled huskily. "You will find that I certainly run far hotter than ice."

She looked at him with intrigue, a glint in her eyes told him that she was completely willing to delve into this latest discovery. Mycroft chuckled and slid up closer to her, his hands moving down her arms from her shoulders to her elbows and then to her waist.

His started kissing her neck, jaw, lips, nibbling and licking lightly against her skin. Molly gave a small moan at the sensation.

"Oh…it's been far too long since I've done this."

Mycroft pulled her closer and whispered into her ear. "I am the only one, Molly. We _have_ to be exclusive. I have to be the only one. You're mine. Mine and only mine. I'll never let you go. Never." Molly gasped when she felt him against her hip.

"M-Mycroft?"

"I know it's too soon. I know. I won't ask, but I do want you to know that I _am_ interested."

Molly wiggled against him, causing his to hiss slightly. She laughed. "I'll say you are."

He flushed slightly and then noticed the car had stopped in front of Molly's flat.

Molly straightened herself up and looked at him with a half smile. "Come up for some…coffee?" She grinned at him. Mycroft smirked.

"Gladly."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Molly smiled as she closed the door behind him. It wasn't the first time that Mycroft had come to her home, but it was the first time they had inclined to become physical.

" _Would_ you like any tea or coffee?"

"Not right now, thank you." He looked at her couch and then smiled at her. She shrugged out of her coat and took his for him. He set his umbrella, and gloves on top of the shoe hutch near the door. With a twinkle in his eyes, Mycroft slipped his arms around Molly's waist as she walked past him.

"Oh! Mycroft!" She laughed and rested her hands on his. "Where's this coming from? I thought I was dating a distinguished man who worked in a _minor_ position of the British Government."

Chuckling, Mycroft slowly kissed her shoulder and neck, nuzzling the back of her neck and inhaling the scent of her hair.

"He's not here right now. Would you like to leave a message?" His hands moved up to cradle Molly's chest delicately. Molly gasped and closed her eyes, enjoying the physical touch of another man.

"Yes, I want him to know that he should be gone more often." Mycroft smirked into her neck and then lightly bit her ear.

"You're so beautiful, Molly. So…enchanting." Molly's eyes fluttered closed again as she simply relaxed and drank in Mycroft's words and touch. "I wish I could show you just how much I feel. Words were never really of much use to me. I never truly understood how to interact with the world, being on such a different plane as the masses, it does create a large gap."

Molly smiled and twisted around in his arms, wrapping her own arms around his neck. "I think I know exactly how to spend the evening…" She pulled away and moved across the front room to a little cabinet. Opening it up, she show him a modern record player. A smile started playing across his lips.

Pulling out a record that had slow waltzes on it, she slipped it onto the player and set the needle into the outermost groove. Turning up the volume, music began to softly surround them.

Molly turned then and curtseyed to Mycroft. He bowed and took her head, kissed it, and pulled her into a waltz.

They were far too close together to be proper, but it didn't matter. Molly closed her eyes and trusted him to lead her. She felt like she was on air, enjoying the feel of him against her. "I've dreamed of doing this with my man." She whispered into his ear. "I've dreamed of him simply holding me, not ever letting me go. I feel safe with you, Mycroft. So safe. Stable." She clutched him tighter. "Never let me go, please."

He held her closer to him and wondered distantly what had happened in her life that would make Molly crave physical contact of a male she had deemed 'safe'. He pushed that analytical thought out of his head and focused on Molly. His woman, his love in his arms. The music was softly playing still as Molly gently untied his tie.

He lifted her and set her upon the back of the couch and eased her pantyhose and shoes off. His hand moving brazenly up her leg. Molly smiled down at him. Lifting her back down, he continued to dance with her, while slowly lowering the zipper of her dress. There would be nothing rushed in this night. Nothing half done.

Molly tilted her head back as she felt his hands slip onto her skin. She gave a quiet moan of contentment, not afraid to vocalize her happiness. Mycroft smiled and kissed her lightly on her lips.

She kissed him back gently, but thoroughly, as she divested him of his suit coat, vest, and belt.

Pulling away from him, she took his things and folded them gently on top of her bureau. Mycroft turned off the player and followed her into her bedroom. She had turned the lights on low, not off, but low. He appreciated that.

Sitting on her vanity, Molly smiled at him softly as she removed her earrings. She slowly combed her hair out. Mycroft watched her with rapt attention as he sat on her bed, folding trousers in his hands. Molly looked him up and down and then smiled widely.

"Now why would you hide such a nice form under suits all the time?" She raised her eyebrow. Chuckling, Mycroft pulled off his undershirt and allowed it to join the rest of his clothes.

"I don't mind telling you…in the morning." Molly laughed and then lifted her hair.

"Necklace?"

He obliged and unclasped the necklace and set it on her vanity. His hands curled around her shoulders as he slowly massaged her. Closing her eyes again, Molly exhaled. "Oh…" Mycroft kissed her neck as he unclipped her bra. Molly got up and turned towards him, letting it fall to the floor. Mycroft tutted and stooped to grab it. Looking up from where he was crouching on the floor, he felt a rush of blood go south. Molly smiled down at him. With a smile that was quite a lot like a predator, Mycroft scooped her up and laid her gently on the bed. He pulled her panties down, tugging gently on them and pulling them off completely, setting them down, folded, on the bedside table. With slow, precise moves, he pulled off his boxers and covered her body with his.

~they deserve their privacy~

Mycroft smiled as he stared at the ceiling of Molly's bedroom. Molly had assured him, in more ways than one, that it was definitely not too soon.

He turned over and looked at Molly. "Dr. Margret Hooper." He straightened suddenly as a thought came to him. Gently, he shook her awake.

"What?" Her eyes snapped open, and she sat up quickly, instantly awake. When she realized it was him, she slumped back down onto her mattress. "Mycroft…" She smiled at him. "You startled me. Is something wrong?"

Mycroft shook his head. "No, but a thought occurred to me. When we first met, you said that you had the option of going into forensics, or pathology, or any medical field. What did you mean?"

Blinking, Molly stared at him. "You woke me up now because of that?" He nodded, slightly confused as to what the problem was. Molly sighed and shook her head, a small smile on her face. She sat up against her pillows. Sighing, she closed her eyes and tilted her head upward. "Damn my nervous mouth. Fine. When I was growing up, my father was obsessed with science. He didn't understand imagination. He liked what he could see. He hated the arts." She played with her coverlet and sighed. "My mum was dead. Shot herself in the head two days after I was born. I'm the youngest of three children. My two brothers were older than me, Jeremy and Jordan. You know all this probably."

She looked at him sadly. "Jeremy joined the air force and got killed. Jordan got married and has kids. My father died in his lab, heart attack." She started wringing her hands slowly. "That's the back story. Jeremy loved writing. He loved everything Mum loved, and Father hated. Father made Jeremy's life a living hell. Jordan had a head for numbers, but only numbers, he couldn't understand biology for the life of him. Me…"

Molly scoffed quietly. "To Father, I was the golden child. He raised me on science textbooks instead of picture books. He told me real accounts of science and discoveries instead of fairy tales." She looked at Mycroft and gently reached out and played with his chest hair.

"By the time I was twelve I had a complex understanding of human anatomy, biochemistry, chemistry, and psychology. Father encouraged me to barely get past the arts and focus on the sciences. By the time I went into Uni, I had Master level knowledge of nearly every major medical field." Molly smiled hollowly at Mycroft.

"But you know? My father's passion became my rage. I hated everything to do with science except pathology. Pathology…that can be an art, you know?" She leaned against Mycroft quietly and inhaled his scent. "That's why, Mycroft. It was my way of getting some small form of revenge against Father. He ruled my life, told me how to dress, how to eat, how to walk, who to talk to, how to talk, who to make friends with, what non-educational books to read, what hobbies to have, how breath oxygen." Molly's hands fisted into the bed sheets, and she swallowed a sob.

"Shit…I thought I was over this." She shook her head. "I'm sorry. I know how men don't like tears. Don't worry, I won't make a fuss. I won't cry." She looked at him with some small panic, as if expecting to be rebuked.

Mycroft frowned darkly, wondering if her father had instilled that fear in her too. "Molly, if you need to cry, then cry. I will not discourage you from doing something that your body wants to do." Molly was still and then the waterworks actually began. Mycroft held his…girlfriend? He grimaced. _No, that simply will not do. How about…lover could work now._ He nodded to himself and continued to hold his lover.

The tears eventually subsided. Mycroft glanced at the clock and nodded quietly. He wasn't going to be late for anything. All his appointments were scheduled for this afternoon. He smirked as he realized that Anthea somehow predicted he'd get…lucky. He had only hoped and dreamed. But she…she had known. Women…

Mycroft picked Molly up quickly and swung her around the room, causing her to squeal. She held onto him and started laughing. Mycroft grinned at her. "You realize that being with you makes me feel twenty years old?"

Molly laughed again and kissed him sweetly on the cheek. He looked at her as she beamed at him. Briskly getting up, he motioned her to follow him. "Now, we have to stick to the schedule. I need to get to work at two o'clock precisely, and it's just past nine now. We need to hurry in order to get everything done. Come now, let's get dressed."

"But I wanted to sleep in!" She gave him a mock pout.

"Not today! Come on! Don't dawdle!" He clapped his hands.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Molly grinned and pulled him after her. "I still have your clothes when you left them hear after using my shower from our last jog. You rushed off to work in a three-piece suit and forgot them." She handed him his trousers, and white button up, long sleeve, collar shirt. "I had them washed. I also had your jogging trousers and shirt cleaned too. They're in the closet."

Mycroft kissed her on her cheek and started getting dressed. He looked at Molly and envisioned her getting dressed in his own home. He smiled. The past five months had worked wonders on him. He felt looser, calmer, and more ready to smile.

He got ready two times faster than Molly. "Come along, come along." She stuck her tongue at him. He rolled his eyes. "Hurry it up."

Grabbing her purse, she hurried after him, after feeding her cat. "Bye Toby!" Molly locked the door and curiously followed Mycroft down the hall. "Mycroft, what are you doing? What's gotten into you?"

"Any second I could get an emergency call and have to leave you. I want to get this done first before that can happen."

Molly smiled and then nodded. "Fine. Lead on, oh British Government." He snorted.

~fifteen minutes later~

Molly stared out the car window in surprise. "What?" She look at Mycroft. "Seriously, what are we doing here?"

Mycroft smirked. "Shopping." He opened the door and held it open for her after he got out. She sighed and followed him out of the car. Taking her arm, and winding it around his, he slowly walked down the streets with her.

"Mycroft?"

They had stopped at a jewelry shop. Mycroft gave her a small smile and entered the shop, once again holding the door open for her. She looked around in awe. This was the type of place where the cheapest piece was one thousand pounds!

"Madame Tulsou? Have you gotten my order ready for pick up?"

"Oui, Monsieur Holmes." The older woman smiled and winked at Molly. "You are very lucky, young lady!" She pulled out the box with a flourish.

Mycroft took it from her and handed the lady a check. Turning around he smiled at her. "To make it official, don't you agree?"

Molly gasped, not in surprise at the ring inside, but in surprise at the beauty of the ring. It was a simple band of sterling silver. Set inside it were five, black diamond chips, and a white, one carat, musgravite gem with an oval cut.

"Oh! Mycroft, it's…it's flawless! Perfect! But…it's much too much expensive! Musgravite is one of the most priceless gems in existence!" Her eyes were wide.

Mycroft kissed her lips softly. "It shows you, and everyone else, how dearly I hold you, how much I plan to invest myself in you, how closely I care for you. It's yours. Take care of it, Molly…it symbolizes my heart."

Molly stared at him and then threw her arms around his neck. "Mycroft! Don't you dare claim that you aren't good with emotions and words ever again! I think I'm going to start crying."

He laughed. "Please don't." Pulling her off of him for a moment, he carefully took the ring out of the box and slid the ring onto her finger. "Wear it always for me, Molly."

"Well, I can't get it chipped or damaged while I'm at work, but I'll wear it on a chain. Is that okay?" She looked up at him with worry.

He smiled and kissed her lips softly. "Perfect." He nodded to Madame Tulsou while Molly waved, and they left the shop.

"Is this the whole of our trip?"

"Nope." He waved his car over. Molly frowned up at him in confusion.

"Mycroft?"

"Be patient." He winked at her. She huffed and settled against him easily.

They stopped at Harrods, Victoria's Secret (though Mycroft became mysteriously absent during that time and Anthea helped Molly out), Debenhams, Fortnum & Mason, Harvey Nichols, John Lewis, and Liberty.

Molly was exhausted and a bit miffed that Mycroft and Anthea constantly put her ideas down and dismissed them. All the dresses she gushed over, they cringed at. And they simply _refused_ to allow her to choose what sweaters she wore. Molly was a bit huffy until Mycroft relented and allowed her to buy two or three outfits that were cute, colorful, and trendy.

They stopped later and had lunch. Anthea left soon after to deposit all of Molly's things at her flat.

"Mycroft, I cannot believe that this entire shopping spree only took three hours! It's 12:30PM!" She laughed quietly as their food arrived. They were dining at The Greenhouse. She smiled at Mycroft and then made a show of admiring her ring. With a happy sigh, she took his hand and squeezed it. "But Mycroft, I do need to ask you, why now?"

"I have showered you with gifts before." He smiled innocently. Molly rolled her eyes.

"Sure, buying me a new umbrella, getting me a free, platinum gift card, things that are practical. Those are 'friend' gifts, Mycroft."

"And there in lies your answer. You are no longer a friend. You are my…" His nose wrinkled slightly. "Girlfriend, even though you aren't a girl, you are a woman."

Molly smiled and shook her head, her teeth snagged her lip slightly as she thought about everything. "In a manner of speaking, we've been _dating_ since we started jogging together."

Mycroft laughed quietly under his breath. "Yes. I still remember when Lady Geraldine Wallas stared at us, or me rather, from her open car window."

Molly flushed bright pink. "And I blew her a kiss." Mycroft snickered. "It's not funny! Do you think she still remembers it?" Molly looked anxious. Mycroft nodded his head exaggeratedly up and down. She groaned. He continued snickering until she threw a grape at him. He caught it and popped it into his mouth.

They finished their food and then pondered if they should order a dessert. Molly wrinkled her nose at the selections. "Ick, no this will give us heart burn." She beamed. "I know! Let's go to my flat, and I'll make a batch of lemon bars with sprinkled white powdered sugar. You can help me!"

Mycroft looked at her and then back at the menu and then smirked. "Excellent. Waiter, our check. We won't be having any desserts today."

"Yes, sir." The man bowed and left.

Molly glanced around slightly and smiled. "That's a nice turn of events."

Mycroft looked at her curiously. "What is?"

She blinked and then her face became slightly guarded. It was a disconcerting look on Molly, because she was usually so open and free. Mycroft didn't like it, but he was glad that she was capable of having it.

"Molly." He looked at her firmly. She sighed and grabbed her purse.

"I simply don't want to remind you of something that could make you sad."

"Tell me. I'm pretty sure I can withstand it." He slipped his tongue into his cheek. She rolled her eyes.

"Fine, I just noticed that Sherlock wasn't stalking us today like he usually does when we're on our dates." She sighed. "He really doesn't like the fact that we're together. I wonder why…it's not like he's possessive of me or you." Her eyes clouded over with thoughtfulness until…her eyes widened. Mycroft knew she had found out.

"Mycroft…he isn't…of course he isn't. That's stupid. I'm rambling. Let's go, dear." She hurried to get up. He sighed and slowly walked after her, leaving a good tip for their waiter.

After they had gotten their coats, they walked onto the street. Molly shivered slightly in her new navy blue skirt and white silk blouse, even though it had long sleeves. Mycroft sighed.

"I bought you a coat for a reason, Molly. You can put it around your shoulders."

She nodded slightly and took the coat from him and slipped it on. She sighed. "Mycroft…you never even asked me to clarify what I was blathering about earlier."

"I didn't ask, because I didn't need to. Come on, Molly. We're walking off the lunch we had. I need to tell you something very private. Something you might…hate me for. I suppose. I don't know." _I hate being so vulnerable_ , he thought bitterly.

They walked until it was one o'clock. By the time Mycroft was finished, Molly was shaking physically from the shock of the news. "Sherlock…oh Mycroft…" Her eyes were wide. "I'm so sorry for both of you!" She hugged him firmly, crying for him. "You've had to go through this whole thing on your own! Oh Mycroft, you won't be alone anymore. You won't have to take this burden alone. I'll help you. We'll face this together! Together! You won't be alone anymore!"


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Mycroft looked at Molly. "Not alone anymore…" He stared at her in awe. "Do you honestly mean that?"

"Of course, Mycroft. You said that you could see marriage in our future. I can see it too. I am your wife in the making, and I will help carry any weight of your burdens that you allow me to take on." Her brown eyes were completely genuine. "I will comfort you, care for you, and love you, this I promise, Mycroft Holmes. You will never be alone again." She pulled him into an embrace. "Never ever, ever."

Mycroft closed his eyes and held her tightly to him.

The moment was shattered when he received a phone call. He sighed, slightly angry, and pulled his phone out of his pocket. It was DI Lestrade. That was never good.

"This must be the reason why Sherlock wasn't stalking us today." He muttered. Molly looked at him with concern, her eyes wide and filled with the concerned eagerness only a woman in love could have.

"Yes?" Mycroft spoke calmly.

 _"Sherlock's was found at a flat rented to a woman named Irene Adler. He was drugged to the gills and this time it wasn't him who did it. John was there. He claimed that Adler drugged him to escape. I tried contacting you last night, but you didn't pick up."_

Mycroft sighed and rubbed his face slightly with a gloved hand. "Alright. Where is he?"

 _"At Baker Street now, still sleeping it off, I'd imagine. John's with him."_

Mycroft nodded slowly. "Very well. I hope you got some videos, Detective Inspector. That was a once in a lifetime chance for blackmail. Use it wisely."

 _"Hahaha! I did! Would you like a copy?"_

Mycroft gave the man an amused affirmative and then said farewell and immediately waved his car up. "Sherlock was on a case that I required him to look into. However, the target got away by drugging him. Don't worry, he's not seriously injured. It was a simple knock out drug, I suppose. Dr. Watson is with him, so he'll be alright." Mycroft frowned in thought. "I wonder…" They got into the car. "Any chance of Sherlock falling in love with Irene Adler?" He needed a woman's opinion.

Molly frowned and looked up at him. "Who?"

"A dominatrix who has proven herself to be bothersome to the Government. I asked Sherlock to retrieve a certain item from her, but it seems that he failed." Molly's eyes lit up in realization.

Molly scoffed. "Oh! Irene Adler! He underestimated her." She waved her hand slightly. "I know all about Adler. A friend of mine reads the scandal sheet news, the ones no one _ever_ believes, and tells me the juicy bits over lunch."

She chuckled sadly. "Got to admit, I feel sorry for that woman. Why she would do that to herself over and over again with people she doesn't care for, who don't care for her…I understand there are some people out there who find emotions easy to ignore, but I have _never_ met a woman who doesn't have feelings."

Molly rested her head against Mycroft's shoulder. "You asked me if Sherlock could fall for her? For his sake, I hope he doesn't. For your sake, I hope he does. For Irene Adler's sake? I hope he doesn't." She closed her eyes. "She's only a passing fancy to him, Mycroft. Mark my words. She'll be out of his mind, or locked up in a room in his mind palace, within two months."

Mycroft sighed and leaned his head against Molly's. "Bugger."

"Do you…" She looked at him. "Did you get yourself…examined?"

Mycroft raised his head and nodded. "I wouldn't involve you in anything like that, if I wasn't sure of my health."

She smiled and kissed his cheek. "Just wanted to know." They rode the rest of the way in silence. Molly slowly rubbing light circles on his wrist, which was draped over her shoulder.

He sighed in contentment and nuzzled her slightly. Molly chuckled. "Who'd have thought that the British Government liked to cuddle?"

"Don't tell anyone, or I will be forced to spirit you away and hide you forever." He kissed her and nipped her earlobe. Molly giggled and then stopped. She stared out the window.

"What in blazes?! I don't live in this neighborhood! I can't even afford a _closet_ in this type of place…what are we-" She stopped and turned her head slowly to stare at a suddenly sheepish Mycroft. Her eyes narrowed.

"Ah…did I make an error?"

Molly slowly inhaled and then slowly exhaled. Smoothing her skirt out, she spoke calmly, and slowly. "In the future, I would like you to alert me of your plans. Especially if they involve me moving." She smiled icily at him.

Mycroft sighed and shook his head. "What I cannot even fathom is why you insisted on living in that shoebox of an apartment when you have an annual salary of 60.000 pounds."

Molly flushed slightly and sighed. "I was raised to be economical. The cost of living, very roughly, is 33.252 pounds per year, and that's not including groceries, clothes, toiletries, and accessories."

Mycroft smirked. "Do you want to know what my salary is?"

Molly nodded quickly. He leaned over and whispered in her ear. Her eyes widened, and her jaw dropped.

"WHAT?!"

Chuckling, Mycroft got out of the car quickly and held the door open for her. "So, as you can see, this is nothing to me."

Molly sighed. "Well shit." She grabbed her coat and walked with him into the flat lobby.

They went through the security and entered the lift. Molly was jittery with excitement. Mycroft smiled at her. He couldn't wait to see her reaction.

He handed her the key and barely contained his grin. Molly unlocked the door and froze.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

The entire décor of the flat was pine wood brown, cream white, and tan. From the doorway, she could see the balcony straight ahead of her, overlooking the cityscape of London. To her left she saw an open, spiral _staircase_ leading to an entire upper floor.

To her right she saw hints of the kitchen. Straight ahead of her, in front of the balcony that seemed to wrap around the entire front of her flat, was the living room. The living room area was covered with a thick dark brown carpet that matched the wooden trimmings of the stairs and the wood of the furniture.

Slowly, Molly crept into the room. Curious, and yet dazed, she could not truly accept that this was her new home. Looking to her right, she saw an entire kitchen outfitted with all the modern, top of the line appliances. The cupboards were wooden with bronze handles. Past the kitchen, towards the side balcony, was the dining room. The wooden table seated eight people. The windows of the entire bottom level were floor to ceiling, and the curtains were thick and tan.

Molly turned to the left and saw a hallway to the left of the staircase opening. Slowly, she followed down the hall and saw three doors. Opening the first door, which was on the right, she saw an library/study. The second door, on the left, was to a guest bathroom. And the third door on the right, opened to a state of the art laboratory.

Molly squealed. Mycroft had to physically carry her out of the lab. He was smiling though. Molly rested her head on his shoulder and sighed contentedly.

He carried her upstairs which opened to a whole new level. Slowly, he set her down when she began wiggling around eagerly.

In front of Molly and Mycroft was a private lounge area with a smaller, cozier set of furniture and a flat screen TV. All of Molly's CDs and DVDs were in the new cabinet under the TV, plus some that Mycroft knew she had wanted to buy but never got around to buying them.

To the left of the lounge, past the staircase was a guest bedroom. It was done in neutral colors of brown and tasteful art. There was a queen size bed and a bath.

Leaving the guest bedroom, Molly looked past the lounge and saw a large set of double doors. They were wood with bronze handles. She slid them apart and saw the master bedroom. It was far more sophisticated than her original one, but Molly could tell that Mycroft had strove to make it more feminine.

There were tasteful traces of pink and purples around. Her bed was gone, replaced with a king sized one in the middle of the room, up against the far wall. There was a vanity to the left and a walk in closet to the right. A personal bathroom was right beside the vanity.

Molly cooed in delight. Toby even had a cat castle. She beamed at Mycroft and snogged him right then and there.

"You'll be visiting me a lot, right?"

"As often as I possibly can, don't you worry." He whispered into the flesh of her neck.

Molly shivered slightly and held onto him tighter. "But why, Mycroft? Why this?"

He sighed. "You will be viewed as the Fiancé of Mycroft Holmes. You will have to live up to the expectations of that title. Most wouldn't know the severity of such a title; however, those who _do_ understand who I am, will either try to win your affections or ruin you. Most will try to win you over to them. But those who don't…"

Mycroft pulled away and sat her down on her bed. "Women will be jealous of you; men will flatter you. You won't know who to trust. Now, your security will also have to be increased, with a personal body guard. Please, do not object, Molly. It's for your own good." He sighed, knowing the worst was yet to come.

"Molly…I would greatly appreciate it if you quit your job at Bart's." He raised his hand. "You will still be working as a pathologist; however, I want you to work for the MI6, where I can keep an eye on you, and," He added quickly, "Where we can share our lunch break in my office, and spend more time together than we would otherwise." Molly bit her lip in thought. "I want you to be a forensic scientist and pathologist. Please Molly. You can still Consult for NSY and Bart's if you like, but please…" His eyes were wide, pleading with her. Molly sighed. "A single bullet…I am the most powerful man in the kingdom. I do not come without enemies…"

Molly sighed. "I want to finish my current agreement with Bart's, Mycroft, then we'll see."

"How many years do you have to go?"

"Two and half."

Mycroft's lips thinned. "April of 2013."

She shrugged. "Roughly, yes." She looked at him and then sighed. Standing up, she looked through the bathroom. Brown marble counter, bronze handles, tan rugs, bath tub/Jacuzzi and a separate shower stall. She re-entered the bedroom and looked at Mycroft. He was standing there with his hands behind his back. Molly looked at her ring on her finger.

"Mycroft…this is also about Sherlock using my flat as a bolt hole, isn't it?"

He deflated slightly and then slowly nodded. "Sherlock…is unpredictable. If he is high, then he might take his sexual frustrations out on you. Revenge for 'stealing me away' or something equally ridiculous and dramatic. This won't stop him from coming to you, but it will give you a chance to turn him away." Mycroft huffed. "Even _he_ can't scale fifteen levels!"

Molly snorted and nodded. "I understand." She looked at him closely. "I will be completely free to move about on my own?"

"A single bodyguard at all times, but yes. He can be disguised, if you like."

Molly bit her lip. "What am I expected to do as the fiancé of Mycroft Holmes?"

Mycroft frowned. "You will be required to attend parties, gatherings, rub elbows with the ladies of high class." He sighed. "You will never drink to excess. The media may not notice you, but others will, more powerful people. You _must_ have a completely flawless past and future, Molly. My reputation and your own depend on who you are with and how your act."

Molly nodded, biting her lip in concentration. "Pub nights with friends is out then?"

Shaking his head, Mycroft smiled. "Not necessarily. Just as long as you don't get sloshed, you shouldn't arouse any attention on yourself. There will be a few women in Whitehall who will want to meet you. Once our engagement is made public, we will be expected to host a small party of certain people who are aware of my status."

He shrugged. "However, I'm certain that any questions you have Anthea or I could easily answer. There isn't much to know that isn't common sense. Any parties that we go to, I will be with you constantly. I'll make sure that you are safe from the less…" He wrinkled his nose. "Scrupulous politicians' wives. They can be quite vicious sometimes." He smiled at her. "But I am certain that you will be completely fine, Molly. Who could not help loving you?" He stood up and reached out gently to embrace her.

Molly sniffed and held onto her fiancé tightly. "Thank you, Mycroft."

He sighed. "I need to go now. Sherlock will want to talk to me about Adler." Molly nodded and kissed him.

"I love you."

"I love you too, Molly."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

~Baker Street~

Mycroft sighed and closed his eyes when Sherlock mentioned the CIA. Mycroft had been hoping that Sherlock would work together with them. He should have known the Americans wouldn't have recognized his brother, even though they had been given a picture of him and John Watson. _Idiots!_

"Yeah, thanks for that, Mycroft."

"It's a disgrace, sending your little brother into danger like that. Family is all we have in the end, Mycroft Holmes."

Mycroft snapped. "Oh _shut up_ , Mrs. Hudson!" He couldn't take it. Family indeed. His brother lusted for him, and raped him, _twice_ , and _Mycroft_ get's in trouble for loose-canon CIA agents?!

"MYCROFT!"

He blinked in surprise. Sherlock honestly _cared_ for the old biddy? "Apologies." He tried for a pleasant smile.

"Though do in fact shut up." Mycroft stifled a growl. Always the same. Mycroft got in trouble, but Sherlock got away. Sherlock's phone went off again. Mycroft raised an eyebrow at Sherlock. Sherlock got flustered, though no one but Mycroft could notice.

"Oh! It's a bit rude, that noise, isn't it?" Mrs. Hudson commented, though she didn't seem all that fazed. Mycroft swallowed a chuckle.

Sherlock ignored the landlady. "There's nothing you can do, and nothing she will do, as far as I can see." He gave Mycroft a pointed look. Oh the double meanings in that one. Mycroft closed his eyes.

 _You mean to say, Sherlock, that there's nothing I can do about your hunt for my blood, and nothing Molly can do to stop you._ _You're wrong._

"I can put maximum surveillance on her." He tried to steer the conversation back.

"Why bother? You can follow her on Twitter. I believe her username is TheWhipHand." Sherlock nearly winked at Mycroft. _Wanna explore that area, Brother Mine?_

"That's most amusing." Mycroft's phone went off. He stepped outside. "Excuse me. Hello." He slipped outside and listened to the speaker. "Good, have they been all collected? See that those copies are found. I don't trust fate any more than I do my brother, Anthea." He smirked. "I'll bet you ten quid that Adler's got them…yes…see that you do…Good. Oh, and buy twenty roses for Molly with an apology card. I don't think I'll be leaving the office until late tonight…Good."

He hung up and called Frank Sutcliff. "Everything is ready, all are collected." He turned back to the flat. "Bond Air is go. That's decided. Check with the Coventry lot. Talk later." He hung up. He _loved_ hanging up on Frank, the arrogant sod. Mycroft faced his brother.

"What else does she have?" Mycroft played for an innocent look. Failed, if Sherlock's eye roll was anything to go by. "Irene Adler. The Americans wouldn't be after her if all she had was a couple of compromising photographs." He stood up and quickly invaded his brother's personal space, enjoying it. Mycroft could tell the closeness was reminding Sherlock that they hadn't shared a kiss in nearly two months.

He could practically feel Sherlock's body and mind screaming at the younger man to lunge at Mycroft and _feast_. Mycroft forced himself not to back away.

"There's more. Much more." Sherlock lowered his voice. "Something big is coming, isn't it?" His gaze flicked down to Mycroft's lips before going back up to his eyes.

Mycroft forced himself to remain calm. "Irene Adler is no longer any of your concern. From now on, you will stay out of this."

 _Oh, brother mine, take my challenge! Take it and keep after her. This has been the most peace I've ever had!_ Mycroft kept his thoughts from Sherlock, and emotions off his face.

"Oh will I?" A glint was in Sherlock's eyes now. Mycroft knew he had taken the bait.

"Yes, Sherlock, you will." Mycroft smirked as only Sherlock could see and then raised his voice once Sherlock backed away. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a long and arduous apology to make to a very old friend."

"Give her my love." Sherlock insolently started playing "God Save the Queen". Mycroft just _barely_ stopped an eye roll. He turned instead and left Sherlock to John's hands.

Anthea was waiting in the car for him. "Sir?"

Mycroft gave her a look. "Oh _yes._ Everything's wonderful. A sex addict has compromising photographs of a member of the Royal Family. Sherlock is not falling in love with said sex addict, and Molly is hesitant to leave her old life behind to work for me."

Mycroft huffed slightly and slumped into his seat. "What have I miss? Oh! Mrs. _Hudson_ then gave me a lecture on how to properly treat _family_." He gave Anthea a smile full of teeth and fake sugar.

Anthea coughed slightly. "Ouch."

He nodded. "Sherlock was lapping it up, grinning at me all the while, though no one else in the room would have noticed. Except you and Molly." Mycroft looked at Anthea. "What do you think of Molly?"

Anthea smiled. "We've had lunch several times now, as you well know. I think…if she finally gets that self-esteem she needs, she'll be a _very_ fine wife for you. Very capable and strong."

Mycroft smiled slightly. "I'm planning on proposing to her when she quits Bart's."

"You're doing what right now?"

"Many would have called our first five months of close friendship 'dating'. Now, they would claim that we are on the stage of 'engagement'. However, I have yet to officially propose for her hand. She is my fiancé, but, until this thing with Sherlock is sorted, I cannot marry Molly. We haven't gone public with our engagement either."

"Does she know and understand?"

"Yes. It was actually her idea to wait for Sherlock to admit his loss."

"Well that will take a bloody long time." Anthea glanced away from her phone and at her boss.

Mycroft smirked. "No. I don't think it will. What are the reports from Moriarty?"

"He claims that he's winning. Sherlock is completely clueless as to who Adler really is."

Mycroft nodded slowly. "He's right, as of right now. However, Sherlock will discover almost all there is to know about it."

"Almost, sir?"

"He will not discover that I started Moriarty on this path. I brought the man's full attention on Sherlock. Moriarty was only noticing Sherlock in passing. I'm certain he would have gone on quite some time without engaging my brother in any sort of game." Mycroft played with his umbrella handle.

Anthea raised an eyebrow. "Adler noticed Sherlock on her own."

Mycroft smiled. "Yes, how fortuitous."

"Sir, what if they _do_ find out about the jet?"

Mycroft frowned slightly and then shook his head slowly. "Our loss, but I'm hoping that Sherlock discovers her before that."

"He won't." It was stated as a fact. She was texting again.

Mycroft looked at Anthea in surprise. "I never realized just how pessimistic you are."

Anthea snorted. "I prefer to think of it as realistic, sir."

Mycroft chuckled and looked out his window. He had a long day ahead of him.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

~Christmas Morning~

Mycroft watched as the months progressed. Sherlock didn't treat Molly any differently. He barely glanced in her direction. Barely spoke to her. She tried her hardest to keep on friendly terms, but he wasn't willing to cooperate.

Mycroft glanced as the calendar and groaned, slouching into his chair, glaring at his study windows. "Tomorrow's Christmas. It's practically here!"

There was light laughter. Turning his desk chair around quickly, he felt all his stress ease away at the sight of Molly Hooper. She was wearing his ring on her finger.

"And the Whos down in Whoville liked Christmas a lot, but the Grinch, who lived just north of the Whos, did not." Her eyes were alight with mirth.

Mycroft got up quickly and moved to her, taking her up into his arms. He kissed her swiftly, covering every inch of her face, leaving her spluttering and laughing.

"Are we still on for tonight?" Molly nodded and smiled.

"I'm just going to pop up to Baker Street, say hello to the gang, and then you can come and pick me up."

Mycroft smiled and kissed her hard, making her moan. Her mouth opened willingly, allowing him to taste and lick everything inside her, moving his tongue along her teeth and roof of her mouth. Molly clutched at Mycroft, sighing through her nose.

"Well, isn't this a revolting sight."

They jerked apart. Molly pulled out Mycroft's breast coat pocket handkerchief and wiped Mycroft's lips of the lipstick. He allowed it and then moved away to place himself between Sherlock and Molly.

"What do you want, Sherlock?"

Sherlock spread his hands innocently. "Can a brother not visit for Christmas sake?"

Rolling his eyes, Mycroft shook his head. "Sherlock…"

His little brother smirked and then looked at Molly. "Don't think Adler has distracted me enough to make me not notice this little tryst of yours. I hope you don't mean on hurting Molly's heart _too_ much. We do still want her in working condition." He smirked. "Even though you two are being very naughty. After all, Molly is engaged to a mystery man."

Mycroft bristled. "Dr. Margret Hooper-"

"Mycroft!" Molly looked at him with concern and panic.

"Is _my_ fiancé, Sherlock! I will ask you to treat her with respect!"

Sherlock's eyes widened and shot down to Molly's finger. He forced himself to relax. With a silent laugh, he looked at Molly. "I always miss _something_. I didn't realize it was Mycroft." He stepped closer, ignoring how Mycroft tensed. "Congratulations, Molly Hooper." His smile did not meet his eyes. "I hope you know what you're in for." There was ice in his voice.

Molly stared at Sherlock firmly. "Yes, Sherlock. I know." Her eyes flashed. "And I am prepared to _win_." A smirk. "I'm already winning." She slipped her hand onto Mycroft's chest. The meaning was crystal clear. Her engagement ring was resting just above Mycroft's heart.

Sherlock gritted his teeth. "He loves blood more than brides."

"Oh?" Molly smiled innocently at Sherlock. "I have data that claims the opposite. At least he _wants_ to have sex with _me_."

"Molly!" Mycroft knew baiting Sherlock wasn't the wisest of moves. He knew that Molly was going to regret it somehow. "That was _not_ good. Apologize!"

Molly glanced at her fiancé and then sighed. "I'm sorry." She smiled sweetly at Sherlock. "I shouldn't have insulted my future brother-in-law like that. It was uncalled for and rude."

Sherlock tensed and then stared at Mycroft. The elder brother slightly inclined his head. That was all the confirmation he needed. Sherlock pulled his coat tightly around him. "Good luck." He left.

Molly frowned. "Luck?"

"He's going to fight you, Molly." Mycroft sighed and sat down, pulling Molly onto his lap. "I understand that you were trying to make it clear to Sherlock that I was taken, but my brother simply does not understand the meaning of 'retreat'. He cannot _help_ but fight for what he wants, Molly."

Relaxing against her fiancé, Molly hummed. "Well…how about we up the game?"

"What?" Mycroft's eyes narrowed. Molly wasn't phased. She had seen the Ice Man and knew he would never harm _her_.

She played with his cufflink. "I know a friend…a girl named Katharine. She goes by Kitty. We went in Uni together. Last I heard she was trying her skills at journalism under her nickname. She's a successful author already, but she wanted to know what newspapers are like." Molly smiled slightly. "Mycroft, how far would you go to get rid of your brother for say…a few years?"

Mycroft shifted in his chair slightly and turned his head to stare at her. "What have you got cooking in that mind of yours?" He was intrigued.

Molly smirked. "A double sting operation." Her eyes glittered. "One against Moriarty and then other against Sherlock…"

~Christmas~

Molly stared at Sherlock. He was grinning at her darkly. Everyone was silent. Stunned at how vicious, cruel, and _spiteful_ his words were.

Molly remembered back at how her aunt kept saying things like that. Ugly, plain, small, frail, stupid, ignorant, naïve…

"You always say the cruelest things." Tears started slipping down her face. Sherlock was startled. "Always. Always." She laughed at her own stupidity. How could she have expected anything else from Sherlock?

She stared at Sherlock hard. She had worn this dress for Mycroft. Sherlock knew that. He knew that, and he had tried to rip her new found confidence to pieces. She raised her hand and gestured for him to open the present. It was for him.

Sherlock hadn't realized that. He was startled. "Molly…"

She shook her head, stepping closer. Her voice was lowered. "I love him, Sherlock. Just as much as you do. I _love_ him."

He stared at her in shock and then swallowed. "I'm sorry. Forgive me." He leaned forward and kissed Molly's cheek. "Merry Christmas, Molly Hooper." _Truce for now. Truce. We both love him. Right now, we both need to take care of him, not fight and tear him apart._ Sherlock understood.

Suddenly the moment was shattered with a moan. Molly flushed. "I wasn't…that wasn't…I didn't!"

"No. It was me."

Molly frowned. "You?"

Sherlock looked at the message and then went to the mantelpiece. Molly frowned in confusion. She drank some of her wine and slipped out of the flat quickly. She wasn't in the mood to see Mycroft. Shooting him a quick text pleading a headache that she knew he wouldn't believe, she fled to her new flat and had a good cry.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Mycroft only gave Molly a sad smile and quickly left to find his brother. He could tell from Sherlock's treatment of Molly in those few words, that they had found a truce of sorts, temporary, but helpfully just in time. Mycroft was about to go mad.

"Just the one."

"Why?" _Why did you follow me?_

"Merry Christmas." _A truce for the holidays. We all need one._

Sherlock took the cigarette. "Smoking indoors, isn't there one of those…one of those law things?" _Shouldn't you be inside with your fiancé?_

"We're in a morgue. There's only so much damage you can do." _She understands everything, and you've already hurt her enough. Behave._ "How did you know she was dead?"

"She had an item in her possession. One she said her life depended on. She chose to give it up."

"Where is this item now?"

Wailing. They turned and watched as a family mourned.

"Look at them. They all care so much. Do you ever wonder if there's something wrong with us?" _Why do I care? Why are we tempted with this lust?_

"All lives end. All hearts are broken. Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock." _You will be hurt, if you continue to pursue me, Sherlock._

"This is low tar." _You always were weak, can't face your desires and claim them as your own._

"Well, you barely new her." _Don't forget Adler. You have a case. Focus on it, not me._

"Merry Christmas, Mycroft." _Truce for the duration of the holiday, but when that ends, you're fair game._

"And a Happy New Year." _I am ready and so is Molly._

Mycroft pulled out his phone and called John. Either it was Adler, or Sherlock's discovery of him and Molly, but Mycroft knew it was a danger night. After he hung up, Molly slipped out of the morgue. She wrapped her arms around him.

"I'm sorry for canceling."

"No. It's fine. I would have had to cancel anyways." He put his arm around her waist.

Molly smiled and stood on tip toes, kissing Mycroft's nape. "Christmas is all about opening presents…"

Mycroft twisted around in her arms. "I'm afraid…I can't tonight." He couldn't meet her gaze.

She pulled away slowly and then nodded. "I understand…I guess. Would you like to have a night in though? Tea and good books?"

He smiled at her gratefully. "Thank you, my dear."

"Why did you call me Miss Hooper?"

"For Sherlock."

"Professionalism?"

"Correct."

"Ah." She sighed and rubbed her arms slightly. "Poor Sherlock. I do feel for him. He's going to get slammed."

"Slammed?" Confusion laced Mycroft's voice.

Molly smiled and shook her head. "With emotion. He respected Adler, but he wasn't in love with her. He was in love with the distraction she presented."

Mycroft sighed. "No matter. She's dead now."

Molly frowned and looked at her files on the woman. Mycroft, for once, didn't notice. He was too tired to notice anything. She flipped the top page over her clipboard and stared at the DNA analysis report. Something _was not_ right.

"Molly, have you locked up for the night?"

She jerked slightly and looked at Mike Stamford. He was dressed in street clothes. "Sorry?"

"Have you locked the morgue for tonight?"

"No, not yet."

"Okay, be sure to put up the sign for no visitors. It's ten o'clock."

Molly nodded in distraction. "Yeah, okay."

Mike looked at her and then snorted. He nodded to Mycroft and went to put up the sign himself. Knowing that Mycroft was her fiancé, he thought he should know something about Molly.

Motioning the taller man aside, Mike nodded over to Molly. "She gets this way a few times. _Completely_ tunes out the whole world. You could ring a bell next to her ear, and she wouldn't flinch." Mike frowned. "Wonder what piqued her interest. She hasn't gotten into one of these for a while."

Mycroft watched as Molly scanned the papers in front of her. He opened his mouth to respond, but Molly spoke first. "Mike, who was our last DNA record keeper?"

"Tom Stooley. Why?"

"You fired him, right?"

"Yeah, he was drunk on the job and got a lot of the files destroyed, corrupted, or mixed up. I remember it, was a headache. We had to get all the samples again from the NSY or government facilities."

Molly nodded and turned and stared at Mycroft. "Thank you, Mike. I'll clean up now. You can go home." She turned away and re-entered the morgue. Mycroft was after her in an instant. He slipped his hands up her arms when she stopped at the drawer that held Irene Adler's body.

"That was clever." A smile curved her lips. That was rare indeed! "Adler isn't dead, Mycroft." She turned and stared at him. "She simply replaced her DNA records with someone else's. A woman who was a mark, a woman who either willingly died for her, or was killed. A woman who looked like Adler even down to the last scar and freckle."

"Impossible."

Molly stared at Mycroft in defiance. "Mycroft, _nothing_ is impossible."

He was reeling slightly and then he shook himself and reigned in his emotions. "Then she faked her death and gave Sherlock this item…for what?"

"Test. She's testing him." Molly snorted. "The Promise of Love. The Pain of Separation…" She closed her eyes and shook her head sharply. "She's slowly reeling him in."

 **Molly knows emotions better than Mycroft or Sherlock would. They would probably think things a more straightforward when, in reality, things are mostly just grey.**

 **Ink…**


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

She shook herself out of her train of thought. Nothing would come of going back to that. Nothing. She turned away, but Mycroft placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Molly…what were you thinking just then? It was a flashback, wasn't it?" His hand was gentle but firm.

"My…" She sighed. Turning around again, she leaned against Mycroft. His arms were around her instantly. She couldn't look at him while she said it. He deserved to know, but she couldn't look at him. "My father loved to manipulate me. He wanted to draw me closer to him during high school. He didn't want me to make friends. Slowly but surely he became the only fixture in my life. He did to me what Adler is doing to Sherlock. Promising closeness, then moving away coldly, leaving me bereft, and then slowly, drawing me in again."

She shuddered. "It's funny…we are two people whose family members have done unhealthy and illegal things to." She looked up and stared at Mycroft, urging him to realize what she was saying.

Mycroft did. "Fuck." He breathed it out, shock coloring his eyes, making them widen.

She nodded and held him close. "Went to a therapist when he died, my brother wanted me to, begged me. He knew what Father had done, but he didn't want to involve his family, bring our father's attention on his wife and kids."

"Your brother deserves a punch in the nose."

"Nothing could have been done anyways. Father was clever, Mycroft. No evidence. No witnesses except the victim, and the victim never tells." Molly held Mycroft close. "The victim never tells until she snaps and does it herself."

"Molly?"

"I mastered chemistry when I was only a teenager. A simple solution in my father's medicine, and he got a heart attack. I wanted to turn myself in. My brother told me not to. Said it was self defense, near insanity on my part because of what my father did to me." Her voice was almost monotone.

Mycroft closed his eyes and held her tight. "Molly…your brother was right. It _was_ self-defense, and any sane and unbiased human on Earth would agree with him."

"But I killed him. I murdered him." Her eyes were dead as she relived the past.

Mycroft shook her gently. "No! You executed him. He was a pedophile, a rapist, an incestuous man who lost his claim to innocence the second he spoke to you unhealthily."

Molly nodded and then smiled and nodded again. She looked up at him with determined love in her eyes. "I know you, Mycroft. I've told you this, because I want you to understand that I understand. I wanted you to know that you shouldn't hide from me. I don't need to know the details, just know that I understand every emotion. I know the betrayal, the guilt, the shame, the curiosity, the longing, everything." Her eyes bored into his.

"Longing? You know that too?" His voice was faint. She grabbed his hands and stopped him from drawing back.

Shaking her head quickly, she stared at him, urging him to understand. "Mycroft, there will always be a part of us that is curious about it, longing for the thrill of doing something taboo, doing something not acceptable. Every human wants to rebel at least a little in their lives. Sometimes there are humans who want to rebel _more_ than others and don't care about the consequences."

Nodding slowly, Mycroft sighed. "You're right." He kissed her temple. "You are very right."

Molly sniffed and then pulled away suddenly and straightened herself. "Now. I think it's time we cleaned up and got home. Don't you? My flat or your house?"

Mycroft smiled. "I like your flat."

"Alright, my flat it is then. We can curl up in front of a nice, dull movie and have some hot chocolate with mint and relax in each other's quiet company."

Mycroft was already starting to relax as she described their evening. He smiled at her and nodded. "Let's."

~one week later~

Molly sighed and focused on her report. What she was reading was impossible. The doors opened. She couldn't help but stiffen. The constant shadow in the corner of the room also stiffened.

Sherlock's eyes swept over to him and then disregarded him. "I need to use your X-ray equipment."

"Of course, clean up after you're done, Sherlock."

He didn't respond, just turned immediately to the machines. Molly continued what she was doing until she caught sight of what he was X-raying.

"Is that a phone?"

"It's a camera phone."

Molly blinked. She honestly thought he wasn't going to talk to her. "And…you're X-raying it?"

"Yes, I am."

"Who's phone is it?"

"A woman's."

 _Irene Adler's. So the item was her phone. Mycroft was right!_ "You're girlfriend?" Molly listened and watched him. Any sign of guilt or anything. Sherlock's lips curl into a smirk slightly, but he continued the charade for the body guard's benefit. Molly's question was as clear as day: _Are you giving up on Mycroft?_

"You think she's my girlfriend, because I'm X-raying her possessions?" _Don't be stupid, Molly. Mycroft is the only one. I'm on a case!_

"Well, we all do silly things." _This has gone far enough, Sherlock! Move on, dammit!_

However, instead of continuing their hidden conversation, Sherlock stiffened. "They _do_ , don't they? Very silly." He pulled out the phone. "She sent this to my address. And she loves to play games."

"She does?" Molly couldn't believe how easy it was to get information out of Sherlock, if she just used her eyes, and ears, and watched. Mycroft had been right all alone. Sherlock had Adler's phone, and he was trying to crack the password.

Whatever Sherlock typed, it didn't work. He looked discouraged and angry. Molly backed up a bit, knowing that he might lash out at her.

He didn't. He just went back to work.

Molly exhaled slightly when she was alone again. She motioned for Tom to leave the room. The man hesitatingly did. She called up Mycroft. "Honey, I know you are probably busy, but Sherlock came by a few minutes ago." She spoke quickly. "You were right. It is her phone he's got. He's trying to crack the pass-code. Not much luck for him, I'm afraid. She's clever, this one is."

 _"And did you ask about the girlfriend?"_

"Not a flinch, nor a flicker. I was right. He only loves her brains."

 _"Damn."_

"Perhaps we can hook him up with John?"

 _"Fascinating."_ His reply was bland. Molly laughed and shook her head.

"Oh, you know I was joking. Go back to manipulating the poor people of Whitehall. I love you."

 _"I love you too, Molly. I'll see you at eight."_

"Okay, bye." She hung up and sighed again, this time though, going back to work.

~a few hours later~

Mycroft heard his phone and went to pick it up. It was probably from Molly.

 _Jumbo jet, dear me, Mr. Holmes, dear me. ~Number Withheld_

All traces of happiness vanished. "Sherlock, you fool!" _Or am I the fool? I placed faith in my brother's abilities, but that didn't get me anywhere. I thought he would figure it out in time. I put him in her path, and now…the biggest operation against terrorism is ruined. I shouldn't have gambled. I shouldn't have made the risk. What can I do now? What?! What can I do?!_


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

~ten hours later~

Mycroft sat down in his chair. He felt the weight of the whole affair slip off his shoulders. He raised his phone to his ear to call Molly when a hand slipped onto his wrist softly, slowly moving up his arm, caressing, touching. Mycroft closed his eyes and heaved a silent sigh.

He felt breath against his ear as his brother whispered, "Don't you think I should be rewarded?"

"As you said earlier, this was your apology to make up for your blunder in the first place." His voice remains cool, impassive.

Sherlock chuckled breathily into his ear. He knew Mycroft had a thing for breath play. Mycroft closed his eyes. "Sherlock, I am engaged."

"Yes, to a mousy pathologist whom you could never really love." His other hand smoothly slid down Mycroft's front. "You love me already, Mycroft."

A pair of lips kissed Mycroft's outer ear, teeth nipped at his earlobe and then a wet, warm tongue slid down the shell of the ear and to the neck.

Mycroft took a shaky breath and pulled himself away from his brother. "Sherlock, can you not see that you're wrong? Even if this weren't incest, I am still engaged! My fiancé and I are very happy with each other!"

"You don't wear a ring."

"I haven't found one that Molly likes on me."

Sherlock laughed. "Mycroft, what makes you think that Molly Hooper is any different from the rest of them? She'll wake up one day and wonder why she ever thought she was in love with a _freak_." His eyes were hard.

Mycroft didn't flinch, at least, he didn't show it. Sherlock grimaced slightly. "You've gone through three girlfriends and three boyfriends, excluding Molly. Six lovers, Mycroft…and of all of the them, how many did _you_ break off?"

Mycroft closed his eyes. "I know that genii are taxing to live with, but that does not mean that Molly is incapable-"

"Molly's only in this because she's scared of breaking up with you, the big bad British Government! You _know_ this, Mycroft! We're talking about Molly! How many text conversations has she initiated?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Quite a few-"

Sherlock sighed. "When she's _not_ reporting on what I'm doing, Mycroft. Don't be coy. That only works when we're in bed."

Mycroft glared at Sherlock. "Sherlock, Molly Hooper is in love with me. She understands me, and she cares. I am not alone."

Sherlock stepped closer. "Fine then. I tried saving you from inevitable heartbreak, but…" He shrugged. "Kiss for the road, brother _mine_?"

Mycroft leaned forward to kiss Sherlock quickly on the cheek. When he pulled back, Sherlock gave him a disgusted look and grabbed his tie, yanking him forward.

Mycroft was then snogged within an inch of his life. Sherlock chuckled and forced Mycroft's mouth open, licking him, tasting him, forcing him to take Sherlock's tongue as it was thrusted inside.

Mycroft pulled away as soon as Sherlock's iron grip on his arms eased. He wiped his mouth. "Get. Out."

Sherlock chuckled and winked at him. "You may act all huffy and angry, but we both know the truth." He cupped Mycroft's crotch. "You're _aroused_ by me."

"I may find you slightly stimulating, but that does not mean I hold you with more than the brotherly affection I have." Mycroft took a sip of water, rinsed him mouth, and then spat it into the crackling fire. "I said, get out."

"As you wish, Blood." Sherlock gave him another cocky smirk and left.

Mycroft hurried up to his bedroom and stripped. He regarded his half hard cock with some betrayal.

Slowly, he sat down on his bed thought of Molly, of her hair, her laugh, her sweet, warm body. A few minutes later, Mycroft jerked and came with Molly's name on his lips. He didn't notice the shadow leaving his window. He didn't notice the shape of his brother vanish into the night.

~later that night~

Molly groaned and shook her head. Her door was buzzing. "Yes, Mack, what is it?"

"Sorry to get you out of bed, Miss Hooper, but this guy says that it's important. He's calling himself Sherlock Holmes. Very insistent that he see you." The night watchman's voice was apologetic.

Molly jerked wide awake. "Ah…send him up." She hurried to the room her bodyguard had. "Tom, quickly, get up and get ready."

He got his weapons and quickly followed her into her living room. Tom opened the door for her.

Sherlock nodded to him and walked passed, looking at the dimly lit room. "I must say, this is a marked improvement over your last flat. Mycroft does have good taste."

"Sherlock?"

He jerked his head at Tom in a brusque fashion. Molly sighed. "Okay, Tom."

The man hesitated. Molly looked at him and asserted herself like Mycroft and Anthea told her to do. "I said, go."

He nodded quickly and left. Sherlock chuckled. "Oh? I can see that I didn't observe all of you, Molly Hooper. Mycroft saw something that both Moriarty and I missed." He grimaced slightly at the thought. "Like always."

Molly sighed and sat down, gesturing Sherlock should join her. He did, sitting next to her on the same sofa. "He really does love you."

Molly smiled slightly and looked at the roses. "I love him."

"I know."


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

She turned her head and stared at Sherlock. "You do realize that he will always fight you."

He huffed. "No. He won't. If you hadn't come into the picture, then I'd have had him by now." It was stated matter-of-fact.

Sighing, Molly shook her head. "He wouldn't have been truly happy, Sherlock. Do you care for him? Or is this just lust?"

Sherlock looked at her, insulted. "I care. I want to set him free of the confines that he's put around himself. Molly, society at large, is a faulty and finicky thing. It changes its mind so quickly over so many things. How can we know? Incest might be made legal someday soon." He had grabbed her hands during his short speech. His eyes were dark and intense.

Molly shook her head firmly. "Legal or not, if the person is not mentally comfortable with it, then you should leave them alone to figure it out for themselves."

"He's already figured it out. He simply refuses to confess." Sherlock tilted his head slightly. "By the way, Molly, Adler has left the Kingdom."

"I see."

"Mycroft didn't tell you?" He looked at her curiously.

Molly had a half smile on her face. "I don't see how he would have the chance."

"She was arrested four whole hours ago." Sherlock looked at her in confusion. "He's usually on top of these things." His eyes were wide.

Molly smiled. "I know what you're doing, Sherlock. It won't work. Pitting me against my fiancé is a silly thing to do. I trust Mycroft."

"That is a stupid thing to do." He yawned and stretched. "Come on."

"Mycroft doesn't like it when you sleep in my bed, Sherlock."

"We don't _do_ anything."

Molly sighed. "You know that, and I know that, and Mycroft obviously knows that, but he doesn't like it, just the same."

Sherlock turned angrily around to face her. "First you take my brother, then my brother keeps me away from you in whatever friendship we have left?!"

Sighing again, Molly looked at Sherlock, really looked at him. His breathing was ragged. His pupils were blown. He looked pale, and his hands were fidgety. He was going through a danger night.

"Come on." She led him up the stairs and into her bedroom. Sherlock tested the mattress and expressed his appreciation for it by kicking off his shoes, shucking his coat and jacket, pulling out his belt, and falling onto the bed, wrinkles be damned.

Molly sighed and shook her head. "Oh Sherlock…" she pulled out her phone and texted Mycroft. He was usually still awake at this time.

 _Sherlock is with me. Tonight seems to be a trigger night. I'll keep him safe. He almost threw a fit when I refused my bedroom to him, so I caved. Hope you can forgive me. ~Molly_

She didn't get a reply. Frowning, she sighed and shrugged. "He's probably gone to sleep."

"So should you." Sherlock muttered sleepily. Molly chuckled and pushed him towards his side of the bed.

"Move over, you hog."

"Oink."

Molly giggled and then slipped under the covers. Immediately, Sherlock latched onto her and buried his face into her neck.

"Sherlock! What did I say?"

"Always ask before you invade someone's personal space." He mumbled into her skin. Molly sighed when he didn't continue.

Rolling her eyes, she finished for him. "And keep the physical touch to a minimum. I am engaged."

"Both you and Mycroft think that's the end all, be all excuse in life when insisting on doing incredibly inane, boring things."

"Such as practicing morality and fidelity?"

"Yes. Now, do sleep, Molly. I'm tired. I almost got England destroyed tonight."

Molly sighed and knew she was going to get a more accurate account from Mycroft later that day.

When it became clear that Molly had fallen asleep, Sherlock pulled out a hypodermic and slipped the tip under her skin and into her vein. Pulling out quickly after he injected her, he wiped the wound clean and disposed of the needle in her lab.

Carefully, he crawled back into bed. Now, he would find out, once and for all, why Mycroft loved her the way he did.

He pulled her onto her back and swiftly undressed her, after checking for the third time if the doors were locked. He blinked in surprise. "I stand corrected. You do not have small breasts." He cupped them in his hands and glance up when Molly moaned. He smiled slowly and undressed the rest of the way.

"Why do men like women?" He shrugged slightly. "There's nothing truly remarkable about…" He sniffed again.

"Oh." He looked down at her panties and frowned. "Is that it then? Just a tight, wet hole? All the attraction, all the fuss is that?" No one answered his whispered question.

Pulling off her panties, explored the area. Molly groaned and writhed around. "…Mycroft…" She whispered. Sherlock blinked. Now he knew how much she loved his brother.

He pushed a finger inside and suddenly he realized just why men liked women.

 **Now the question is…did he?**

 **Ink…**


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

When Molly woke up, she was refreshed and alone in bed. She sighed and then frowned. Sherlock never left a note. Picking it up, she read it quietly.

 _Thank you. ~Sherlock_

She frowned again and then shrugged. "Keep it for evidence that he thanked me." she smirked and get ready for work. Her phone had a message on it. From Mycroft.

 _I hope you didn't believe anything he had to say to you. He's trying to split us apart. ~Mycroft_

 _He told me you once ran away with a Balinese dancing girl. ; ) ~Molly_

 _Ha. Ha. ~Mycroft_

 _Everything's fine. He didn't do anything except sleep. Nothing naughty. ~Molly_

 _Very well. I'll see you soon. ~Mycroft_

Molly smiled and grabbed her purse. She nodded to Tom, and they left for her work.

After working at Bart's for nearly four hours of her seven hour shift, she felt two long arms slip around her waist. She chuckled and turned around in his arms. "Hello Mycroft." She twisted around in her fiancé's arms. Mycroft kissed her softly before Molly opened her mouth to him.

He gave a quiet sigh of contentment as he tasted his lover. Once they finished the kiss, Molly simply rested her head on his shoulder. "How is England?"

"She'll survive another day."

"And how is her keeper?"

"I can't make any promises. He's a bit impatient for his own keeper." He nuzzled her neck.

Molly felt his hardness against her stomach and chuckled. "Well, then, I guess my lab is closed for maintenance."

He smiled into her neck. "Perfect."

~some time later~

Sherlock leaned against the lab door and listened. He knew it was bad form to listen in on his brother, but he wanted to hear him. Hear him groan and pant, imagining himself to be in Molly's place.

Sherlock snorted. _I never thought that I would become jealous of Molly Hooper._ He knew he was hard, but he had to stay and listen to the end.

"Molly…"

"My-Mycroft!"

Sherlock fled down the hall to the men's bathroom that few used. He brought himself to finish quickly, grunting Mycroft's name, wishing that his brother would love him the way he wanted.

He washed his hands and frowned. _Molly is attractive, but I doubt that Mycroft would be willing to share her. Though a threesome sounds nice._ Sherlock smirked and then shook his head sharply. _I need to stop thinking with my cock. I need to outmaneuver Mycroft. Trick him into willingly fall into bed with me._

He walked down the hall and saw the sign was gone. He smirked and entered without his usual fanfare. "Hel _lo_ you two!"

Mycroft tensed and turned quickly. Molly whirled around to hide her chest. Her bra was in Mycroft's hands.

Sherlock tutted. "Brother Mine, in a laboratory? Of all places? Molly's being a bad influence on you." He smiled at Mycroft, baring his teeth. "But so would I…" He shrugged.

Molly snatched the bra out of Mycroft's unresponsive hands. Quickly fastening it, she turned again and grabbed her blouse.

Sherlock looked her up and down and smiled. "I was wrong, Molly. In my anger, I made an erroneous deduction." He frowned. "It won't happen again."

"Wrong about what?"

"You are _not_ small breasted. Probably a…thirty-two B?"

Molly flushed. "Thirty-six."

Sherlock's eyebrow shot up. "Oh?" He smiled. "Nice. Mycroft at least picked a nice one." He bowed mockingly. "I don't suppose you would allow me to steal your fiancé?"

Molly tilted her head to the left slightly and stared at him. "Let me get this straight. You want to do _what_ exactly, with Mycroft?"

He scoffed. "Are you that dense?"

"No. No, I know you want to have sex with him, but after that…what?"

Sherlock frowned. "Steady relationship."

"Leading to what? A lifetime of sex?"

He shrugged. "Why not?"

"What's your definition of love, Sherlock?"

"The action or emotion?"

"Emotion. What does it entail for you?"

"Passion, honesty, fidelity, and caring."

Molly frowned slightly and nodded. "And what do you think lust is?"

"A fleeting, yet deep, desire for sex only."

Nodding again, Molly glanced at Mycroft. "And why do you think Mycroft is the man for you?"

"He is the only person who can challenge me mentally, and he is the only person who has caught and kept my attention. I cannot become aroused by anyone except him, man or woman. Believe me, I have tried, during high school. I was repulsed by my desires until I realized that I was basing my ideas on Society. Societal rules, as I have said often, are finicky and unstable." He shrugged. "After I came to terms with my desires, I realized that Mycroft needed to be mine."

"Do you believe love is sacrificial?"

Sherlock stopped moving and turned to stare at her intently. "…yes."

Molly nodded and looked to Mycroft. "Could you, in all honesty, give Sherlock what he wants?"

"Physically, I suppose I could. Emotionally, no. Logically, it wouldn't be wise to have a secret relationship. If _anyone_ in Whitehall found out, then I would be ruined and my position lost completely."

Molly turned to Sherlock. "Knowing that this would be exceedingly dangerous to Mycroft and his job, which you know he loves and needs, why do you insist on pursuing him?"

Sherlock looked at her. "Because I know we could hide it. We could get away with it."

"Even if it wouldn't be good for Mycroft? You claim to love him, but you won't do what's good for him."

Sherlock scowled and turned partly away. "What makes you think that this wouldn't be good for him? Pulling free of the chains of society. Freeing himself from the binds of tradition."

Mycroft sighed. "I love you, Sherlock, but I love you as a brother. Nothing more."

Sherlock stepped closer. "You're lying to yourself. Until you face the truth, I won't leave you alone." He left the lab. Mycroft sighed and rested his head on Molly's shoulder.


	21. Chapter 21

CHAPTER 21

~four weeks later~

Mycroft was afraid. For the first time in his life, he was afraid. Molly had to go to a series of medical meetings in Hastings. It was a medical convention for a certain elite group of doctors and surgeons.

Meaning…he was left alone in London…with Sherlock.

But Sherlock seemed to be distracted by big dogs. Mycroft smirked. _Of course I'd let you stay up there, brother dear…that means you can't be down here._ He gazed at the computer screen to his left, watching Sherlock in Dr. Stapleton's lab. He smirked and nodded to Anthea.

"All's quiet on the Sherlock front. Make sure he's distracted when he gets back. I'll be in a hotel with video meetings until Molly returns."

Anthea nodded slowly and then frowned. "Sir, why don't you simply put Sherlock in a hospital that could help him? You did that with the drugs."

Mycroft sighed. "Sherlock can lie and fake anything. He's a brilliant actor, Anthea. It would bring me nothing but heartache and headache. No. If he goes, then he has to go on his own free will. He will need to accept and _seek_ help. I cannot force him. It was different with drugs. He couldn't fake the drug reports."

She nodded and then hesitated. "But…why don't you simply…"

"Send him away?" He raised an eyebrow. Anthea seemed a little ashamed of herself but nodded anyway. He smiled sadly. "I cannot send my brother to an institution. If it makes _you_ ashamed to even suggest it, then imagine how it would make me feel to _do_ it."

He sighed and fiddled with his pen. "No. An institution would be the death of Sherlock. Even as a child, he couldn't stand being isolated or kept from stimulus. It drove him insane as a child. I can only imagine what it would do to him now…"

Mycroft stood up. "Enough of this…how is our prisoner doing?"

Anthea snorted. "Much better. He's been talking freely about his empire now that we've told him things about Sherlock. Are you sure that this is a good idea?"

"Moriarty undoubtedly wants this whole debacle to end in blood."

"And?" Anthea stared at her employer closely. "How do you want it to end?"

"Death is preferable to isolation, Anthea."

Her eyes widened. "You would…"

"No. But that is always a possibility. No, Anthea. My main goal is to get Sherlock out of my hair for _at least_ two years. Two years so I can court Molly properly, so I can introduce her to my parents, so I can marry her." He nodded slowly, leaning against his desk. "That is all I need. Two. Years."

She nodded slowly and then handed him a thick file. "These are all the cases that I have suggested to Lestrade to give to Sherlock. I doubt your brother would accept anything from you."

Mycroft snorted. "You were right in assuming that. Yes, these are decent enough, curious enough. Sadly, they're all dead cases, but Sherlock will find some enjoyment in succeeding in something that all else have failed in." Mycroft gave her back the file. "Give them to Lestrade."

Anthea nodded and left the office. Mycroft looked back at the screen to watch his brother storm out of Baskerville. Frowning, the elder brother looked into what Sherlock found.

 _Oh…Dr. Franklind was interested in re-opening the H.O.U.N.D._ He chuckled. "Oh Sherlock, you must be so happy." Shaking his head, Mycroft went back to work.

~March 2, 2011~

Mycroft smiled at Molly as she mended one of her sweaters. "What's going to happen, Mycroft?" Her eyes were wide.

He looked up and focused on her. "What's going to happen…?"

"To Sherlock? Even if he does go away, like you've planned, for two years. He's still going to come back. We can't keep sending him away."

"Ideally, when he comes back, he'll realize that I am taken completely, and that he'll have to give up."

Molly gave him a look. "And since when has Sherlock _ever_ willingly done what you've wanted him to do?"

Her fiancé snorted. "Once."

"That is a story you will tell me another time. But back to the topic at hand…"

Mycroft smirked at her and then his smirk died into a grimace. "He will come back. He will be angry. He will vow revenge. He will then become an uncle and fall in love with doting and spoiling my children. He will then proceed to give a terrific sulk and ignore me for the rest of my life, all the while buying my children lots of presents and charging them to me." Mycroft gave Molly a wry smile.

She laughed and cocked her head coyly. "And how many nieces and nephews will Sherlock have?"

"Oh…" Mycroft shrugged lazily. "At _least_ one of each. Ideally, one niece and two nephews. The girl will be the youngest with two protective brothers."

Molly smirked. "And when have I _ever_ done anything you've not wanted me to do?"

Mycroft kissed her. "Once."

She laughed and kissed him back.

 **I'm back!**

 **Ink...**


	22. Chapter 22

CHAPTER 22

~November 20, 2011~

Mycroft smirked safely with his back turned to John. "Traditions, John. Traditions define us." Mycroft could have laughed long and hard at the exasperated look on John Watson's face.

The conversation went exactly as Mycroft planned. Except for one thing, John assumed it was sibling rivalry that kept Mycroft away.

 _Too much history indeed. My brother has raped me twice and tried to one other time._ Mycroft shook that thought away from him. If John Watson knew that Mycroft was the one responsible for Moriarty's interest in Sherlock…Mycroft was certain that he would be sporting a few broken bones.

~meanwhile~

Molly looked up at the ceiling and sighed when Sherlock barged into her lab with John right behind him. She looked at her coat longingly. "I won't be going home soon, will I?"

Sherlock smirked and made a beeline for her microscope. They went immediately to work.

"Alkaline."

"Thank you, John."

"Molly."

"Yes."

 _You knew it, bastard._ Molly rolled her eyes and moved to her own station.

"I…owe…you…I…owe…you…"

Molly frowned slightly and then realized that was what Jim had muttered too. "What did you mean, I owe you? …you said, 'I owe you'. You were muttering it while you were working."

"Nothing. Mental note." _It doesn't concern you, Molly. You've become too involved._

"You're a bit like my dad. He's dead. No, sorry." She closed her eyes and sighed. She always stuttered around Sherlock. She could hold her own when Mycroft was near, but Sherlock made her nervous, even before she found out his secret.

"Molly, please don't feel the need to make conversation. It's really not your area." _I don't care what you think. Your opinions don't matter to me._

Molly had to speak though. She had to tell him what she thought, what he needed to hear. "When he was dying, he was always cheerful. He was lovely. Except when he thought no one could see. I saw him once. He looked sad." She stared at him.

"Molly." _Stop!_

"You look sad. When you think he can't see you." Her gaze flicked over to the ever oblivious John Watson. There was no underlying meaning in her words then. She meant what she said, and Sherlock knew it. She stared at Sherlock. "Are you okay?" Quickly, she raised her hand. "Don't just say you are, because I know what that means. Looking sad when you think no one can see you."

He turned and focused completely on her. "You can see me." _You see all of me and somehow accept me. You can see me, Molly…_

"I don't count." _You don't want me to see you. You want Mycroft._ "What I'm trying to say is if there's anything I do. Anything you need…anything at all, you can have me. No, I just mean…" She winced. That hadn't come out right. She knew Sherlock was smirking on the inside. "I mean if there's anything you need…" She gave up. Sherlock would never ask her. The sting wouldn't work. He'd go to someone else. She sighed. "It's fine."

"But what could I need from you?" _The only thing I need is Mycroft, and you won't give him up._

"Nothing. Don't know. Probably could say thank you, actually."

"Th-ank you." He raised an eyebrow in question.

Molly had had it. She couldn't stay in the same room with him anymore. "I'm just going to get some crisps. Do you want anything?" She closed her eyes and then exhaled again.

"Well maybe I-" Sherlock was confused now. He had lost connection with the silent conversation they were having.

Molly gave a half smile and walked away. "I know you don't." She hurried out of the room before she suffocated on her embarrassment.

By the time she came back, her lab it was empty men and messy. She sighed and shot a text to Mycroft.

 _Bee Sting might not work. Might choose someone else for help. :/_

 _~Molly_

She set her phone down and started clearing the counters and cleaning up. She heard her phone vibrate five minutes later.

 _Don't worry. It will work._

 _~Mycroft_

She huffed and rolled her eyes. Completely ignoring Tom, she continued her tasks.

~later that night~

Molly switched the light off and then got the shock of her life. She turned quickly and stared at Sherlock. He was there, just like Mycroft said he'd be.

"You're wrong you know. You do count." He got up and walked towards. "You've always counted, and I've always trusted you. You were right. I'm not okay." She could see tears in his eyes.

"Tell me what's wrong?" Molly begged that it was what she and Mycroft worked for.

"Molly, I think I'm going to die."

"What do you need?" She could barely believe it.

"If I wasn't everything you think I am, everything that I think I am, would you still want to help me?" _You know everything about me, Molly. You and Mycroft know everything. You're the only one I can trust now._

"What do you need?" She didn't stop staring. This was going so perfectly according to Mycroft's plan. She was awed by her fiancé.

Sherlock stepped even closer. "You."


	23. Chapter 23

CHAPTER 23

~meanwhile~

Mycroft stared at the back of John Watson's head and internally groaned. He knew that the good doctor might seek him out, but he hadn't looked forward to it. He hadn't looked forward to defending Sherlock, lying even more, pretending to be the villain instead of the victim that he was…

"She has really done her homework, Miss Rielly. Things that only someone close to Sherlock could know."

"John-"

"Have you seen your brother's address book lately? Two names. Yours and mine. And Moriarty didn't get this stuff from me. So, how does it work then, your relationship, go out for coffee now and then, eh, you and Jim? Your own brother and you blabbed about his entire life to this maniac?!" John was glaring at him.

Mycroft knew he would have to deal with this situation with care. He had already received a text from Molly saying that Sherlock had come. He had received a text from Molly saying Moriarty took Kitty's bait and so did Sherlock. Everything was going swimmingly. Mycroft wanted to make sure that John Loosecannon Watson wouldn't gum up the works.

"I never intended, I never dreamt-"

"This is what you're trying to tell me, isn't it? Watch his back, because I've made a mistake. How'd you meet him?" John slapped the files on the table beside him.

Mycroft slowly started to weave his lies. He had to make this realistic. He had to act contrite. "People like him…we know about them. We watch them. But James Moriarty, the most dangerous criminal mind the world has ever seen, and in his pocket the ultimate weapon. The keycode. The few lines of computer code that could unlock any door."

"And you abducted him? To try and find the keycode?"

Mycroft knew that the code didn't exist. He had only abducted James for one reason. The con game on his little brother. However, he couldn't tell John that. "Interrogated him for weeks."

"And?"

"And he wouldn't play along. He just sat there, staring into the darkness. The only thing that made him open up…I could get him to talk, just a little. But…"

"In return you had to offer him Sherlock's life story…" John was staring holes into Mycroft. He was practically quivering righteous indignation. Mycroft wanted to scoff. "So it's…one big lie, Sherlock's a fraud, and people will swallow it because the rest of it's true." John leaned forward. "Moriarty wanted Sherlock destroyed. And you have given him the _perfect_ ammunition."

"John, I'm sorry."

"Oh… _please_!" John walked out of the private lounge.

"Tell him, would you?" Mycroft smiled a smile that the doctor hadn't seen. A smile of satisfaction. Another mouse had gone after the bait. He chuckled sadly and sent a text to Molly.

 _John has eaten now._

 _~Mycroft_

Her reply was rather amusing.

 _Gobbled it up like a righteously angry, little mouse? ; D_

 _~Molly_

Mycroft chuckled quietly and replied.

 _Indeed._

 _~Mycroft_

He put his phone away and got ready for what Sherlock had asked him to do. Orchestrate all the homeless people into a perfect play. He smiled. His own brother had actually helped him in his sting operation.

Anthea walked in and gazed at her smirking boss. "Everything's going well?"

"Perfectly. Moriarty is fooled. Sherlock thinks everything is going to end on the roof. John thinks I've made a mistake. And the reality…Anthea…" He turned and smiled at her. "The reality is sweeter than honey."

She lifted an eyebrow. "Oh?"

A smile. "I will have approximately two years to have Molly _alone_." He laughed outright. "It will be glorious!"

Anthea took a step back. She had never seen her employer so happy about manipulating people.

"And do you know the best thing?" He stepped closer to her, navigating around the club chair. "This whole sting operation was _Molly's_ idea! She thought up the basics, and I ironed out the details. Anthea…she and I…what a pair we are!" He grinned almost boyishly at his PA. She smiled back and then tilted her head back and laughed.

"You're right, Sir. You really are right. She thought it first, and you ran with it. Both of you are frighteningly good partners."

Mycroft's smile turned sharp. "However…I won't let the government know about her. In public, she will be my loving, shy wife. Anthea, no one must know about her involvement in my affairs."

Anthea frowned. "Are you planning on continuing this…duo thing, Sir?"

He gave her a shocked look. "Of course! We work splendidly together. I think much faster when she's around, and she's a brilliant woman who isn't afraid of me. Perfect working conditions."

Chuckling, Anthea could only shake her head in incredulity. "Whatever you say, Sir. I'll do anything you ask." She smiled at him. "You know I will."

He squeezed her hand in thanks and then swept up his briefcase. "The show down will start an hour after dawn. We don't have much time. Get everything in place quickly."

She nodded and was instantly in business mode. "Yes, sir."

Mycroft rang up Molly. "Darling, stay clear. Everything's about to begin."

" _Alright honey. Sherlock's moping around in my lab. I'm in my office. Your doctors and scientists are splendid! Can I have them?"_

He snorted. "I'm afraid not. Human marketing was banned centuries ago, dear."

" _Damn it. Oh well. I'll get over it then. I love you."_

His breath caught. He still loved hearing her say that. "I love you too, my darling. I'll see you at Sherlock's funeral."

She laughed and affirmed it, hanging up immediately after that.


	24. Epilogue

Epilogue

Mycroft put his coat on the rack and smiled at Molly. She stood up from her sofa and looked at him expectantly. His smile turned a little grim and he nodded.

With a wild cry of relief, she rushed at him, hugging him fiercely. Sherlock had left the UK. He was gone.

"It's just us! Oh Mycroft! It's just us!"

He smiled at her and cradled her head with his hands, pushing her hair back gently. "Molly…Molly…Molly!" He held her, reveling in he touch, in her warmth. He worshipped her mentally.

She was crying. The sting had gone perfectly. Moriarty was dead. Sherlock was gone. Everything was perfect!

She held him close and gripped his shoulders tightly. "It's done. Oh Mycroft…it's just us…"

Mycroft smiled and somehow loosed his arms. "Molly?"

She pulled back and looked up at him. "Yes?"

"Let's get married. Now."

She gaped and then stared at the wedding rings he was holding in the large ring box. A man and a woman's.

She looked back up at him and beamed. "Yes! A million times YES!" He laughed and held her close to him.

"Anthea is going to make the more general arrangements, of course, you have last say in everything. We can invite John Watson of course, but I'd doubt he'll come. We can invite many of your friends."

Molly nodded, not caring what Mycroft was saying. She was only repeating his previous words in her head. ' _Let's get married.'_

"Mycroft, I love you." She stared at him, her brown eyes wide with adoration. "So much."

He bent down and kissed her softly. "I love you too."

 **Fin.**

 **InkstainedHands1177**


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